


The Meeting's at Five

by IronShiba (wegglebots)



Category: Virtual Streamer Animated Characters
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Hololive is essentially SCP lmao, Office AU, Time Travel, smoking and alcohol mentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wegglebots/pseuds/IronShiba
Summary: Here are the things Amelia wants to say:1. Hello, my name is Amelia Watson, it’s nice to see you again. How have you been?2. So Kiara from HR is a dick and she made me in charge of showing you around when she’s fully aware about our history.3. There’s a storage room on the 5th floor that no one ever goes to. We should go there and make out. Now.This is what she says:“Hello, Amelia showing you around storage on the 5th floor how you been?”________Office AU in which Amelia just works a little too hard, and Ina is a new hire. Thing is, they've got some history.(Mostly humor and fluff, I swear lmao)
Relationships: Ninomae Ina'nis/Watson Amelia (hololive)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 194





	1. The new girl

Amelia Watson sits on a crate at the port’s edge. The local time is two in the morning. The air is chilly and nothing but the crashing of waves can be heard throughout. She’s approximately 50 years into the past for a short case. She takes out a cigarette. Lights it.

By her feet, a man groans. A cloaked figure. One who had been reported to The Company as an entity for investigation. He’s old. Probably too old. He looks more skeleton than he does human, the cloak draped upon him loose and empty looking.

“You’re awake,” says Amelia.

The man groans. “What do you want from me?” he asks, his voice coarse and raw.

“Got a report from a fairly reliable source that you’re attempting lichdom.”

“… who told you that?”

“No one,” says Amelia. She crosses her legs. Takes a drag out of her cigarette and blows it out into the night sky. “Thanks for admitting to it though.”

“Why can’t I move?”

The detective brandishes an empty syringe. “You ought to be more careful about who you let into your inner circle. Your apprentice sold you out.”

“That little shit.”

“Well?” goes Amelia.

“Well what?” goes the man, sounding more annoyed than frightened.

“Why are you attempting lichdom?”

“That’s a stupid question, _girl_.”

“And I’ve got a gun, _old man_.”

The man is silent, for a while. Then he says “There are no laws against what I am attempting. I’m telling you I only need –”

Amelia Watson clicks her tongue. “One,” she says, her voice bright but her tone cool, even. “You aren’t answering the question.” She pulls out her revolver and cocks it. “And two, you’re wrong about that.”

The old man makes a croaking sound, as if he meant to go “What?” but it came out disgustingly distorted.

“I come from a company that does one of three things to creatures like you. Either you are contained, recruited, or killed like an animal.”

The man laughs, as if now frighteningly aware of the reality breathing down his neck. “So you are a recruited creature, girl? How does it feel, to have a chain around your neck and yanked around like someone’s pet?”

Amelia takes a nice, long drag out of her cigarette. “Pays the rent and then some.” She flicks the cigarette at the man. “You, however, failed to make a particularly engaging case as to why you should be allowed to continue doing what you’re doing.”

“Those children were unwanted,” he says, as if it were a particularly good point.

“You make me sick,” says the detective. She pulls out a pocket watch from her pocket. Winds it. “Say hello to my friend death when she pays you a visit, okay?”

_______

The office is located square in the middle of the city, but its exterior is so plain and like all the surrounding buildings that no one pays it any mind. Hundreds of office workers, rushing to and fro, none noticing the occasional odd, definitely inhuman individual slipping past the glass doors and meshing in with the crowds.

The building is all plain white concrete and wide, flat glass. It’s as if an architect was consulted, and asked, “Design me the plainest, most _office_ of an office building, please,” and the architect delivered flawlessly.

Even inside the building, the _normal-ness_ of it all just seeps through. A wide, open, modern lobby with some uncomfortable, angular-looking lounge seats. Walls with TVs perpetually playing company ads and the local news. A concierge area leading up to a set of turnstiles where employees scan their IDs while the head of security (definitely human, definitely not a shark girl) watches on.

A short ride up the (very nondescript, very average) elevators leads to the office floors, some departments sharing floors with others. A large number of the buttons on the elevator panel are inaccessible to the average employee. But that’s classified information, and remember, this is an _average, normal office_ , so please don’t bother with the finer details about the several floors of archives and dangerous threats to humanity trapped away in all the other floors that are exclusive to staff with clearance granted to them by Management itself. This is a totally normal office.

Each floor looks similar to the next. (At least, that’s what the average employee knows.) Plain, patterned beige-ish gray carpets, the original color of which is lost to the tides of time. Eggshell white walls. The perpetual clicking and clacking of keyboards and ringing of phones and office chatter echoing throughout. Office cubicles divided by shoulder-height dividers. Divisions separated by rooms. A pantry with coffee and plain bread and a fridge full of marked tupperwares and plastics of convenience store-bought food items. You know, the usual.

Ame zaps back into the timeline. She stands in front of her desk, at her cubicle – a mess of paperwork surrounding a computer atop a scratched up desk with countless coffee stains. She takes a seat at her old swivel chair. Clacks away at her computer to log the details of her newest case.

After this, she’ll report to Calli, her direct supervisor and member of the Management, that the suspect from her case should probably be dealt with promptly. After that she’ll go to the rooftop, take a smoke, and maybe pal around with Gura. And then after that she’ll grab a quick bite from the convenience store across the street. And then after _that_ it’s work, work, work, and some more work until the pile of paperwork on her desk somehow vanishes.

All in a day’s work. Normal, for the time-traveling detective Amelia Watson.

_______

Amelia Watson stares long and hard at the document that Kiara had slapped down on her desk. A single-page dossier featuring the company’s latest hire. Senior Digital Designer for The Marketing Department. Eldritch priestess, ties to an ancient, all-powerful, unknowable entity, and has had previous contact with a detective from the company. _Interesting_ , thinks Ame, as she scans the other information on the page, _she looks pretty cute too_.

Ame squints a little more at the picture. “She looks… familiar,” she says.

Kiara taps at the lengthy bit of text at the bottom of the document. “Yeah, make sure you read this part really good Ame.”

A note, at the bottom of the page:

_Previously encountered in case number [REDACTED]._

_Date: [REDACTED]_

_Case Handler: Det. Amelia H. Watson, “Number One Detective,” CLASS C-1 Entity_

_Case Subject: Ninomae Ina’nis_

_Refer to previous case files for further information._

_Notes: Following case number [REDACTED], Detective Amelia H. Watson and Ninomae Ina’nis have been debriefed following recovery. Both parties involved appeared content with case resolution surrounding the acquisition of [REDACTED] by Ninomae Ina’nis and neither party harbors any resentment or negative intent following these events. Injuries sustained during the case include: several broken bones, internal bleeding, head trauma, light psychosis. Det. Amelia H. Watson’s ability to time travel remains intact and no [REDACTED] were retained, following the ending of the [REDACTED] with Ninomae Ina’nis. The latter has subsequently agreed to our terms and has been classified as “Priestess of the Ancient Ones,” CLASS S-1 Entity: S-level threat with little to no destructive intent._

_Management deems it a Low-Threat Endeavor to hire Ninomae Ina’nis, and considers possible future contact between herself and previous case handler Det. Amelia H. Watson nothing needing any intervention on._

_The Human Resources Department has been advised, however, to keep a loose watch on these two individuals, especially in the case that they [REDACTED] or in the most concerning scenario, [REDACTED]. Management, as well as The Company as a whole, understands that these are two consenting adults and any decisions made in their personal lives are of little to no consequence to us. We only deem it necessary to be aware of such developments in the case that any [REDACTED] or any new abilities are [REDACTED] by either party._

“Oh,” goes Ame. 

“Blast from the past, am I right?” says Kiara, laughing to herself. “Anyway guess who I’m assigning to show the new hire around the office?”

“ _No._ ”

“ _Yes._ ”

A melia jabs a finger at the document. “It says  _right here_ that HR is supposed to keep an eye on us. This seems counter-productive Kiara.”

“ _Precisely_ though, see, now I’m totally aware that you guys are interacting.” Kiara puffs her chest out. “God, I’m so fucking smart.”

“Calli seriously green-lit this?” 

“You _know_ we’ve been struggling to fill the position since the last guy quit twenty years ago.” 

“B-but…” goes Ame, grasping at straws.

Kiara clicks her tongue. “No  _buts_ detective. This is happening. C’mon, the case was like, what, a hundred or so years ago? You barely even remembered her  just now .”

Ame buries her face into her hands. She groans in response to Kiara. Considers willing the earth to just swallow her whole.

“Hey now,” adds Kiara, “I don’t see what the big deal is. You guys liked each other enough to like, do those weird fucking eldritch pacts and whatever, but it didn’t work out because of the whole ‘oh no we’re dying because of eldritch shit’ thing.”

The detective groans louder. Tries to somehow bury her burning face deeper into her hands. “Please stop talking Kiara I’ll buy you as much fried chicken as you want for a week just don’t make me do this,” she pleads.

“Whatever,” goes Kiara, the detective’s pleas going unheard. “Haven’t you ever wondered what things could have been like if you guys met under more _normal_ circumstances? Because I’m kind enough to grant you this one chance right here, right now.”

A melia looks up. Makes eye contact with the taller woman. Watson’s face feels like it’s on fire but she does her best to maintain as serious an expression as possible. “No,” she lies, “I’ve never wondered about that ever.”

“Listen,” says Kiara, “I shit you not, this is actually a strategic move on my part.”

“Are you sure it’s not just because you like stirring up shit?”

“Well that too,” goes Kiara, laughing, “but also, as HR I do need to make sure that the employees here all get along. The Company houses a lot of special individuals with rare, powerful talents and abilities. In a regular work environment, conflicts could escalate to simple physical altercations. Here, conflicts could mean this entire damn city goes to smoke.”

“Your point being?”

“My point being, that if I can rip that awkward band aid off right at the start, you two can just go on and play nice and it’ll make my fucking job that much easier.”

_______

To resist the demands of HR is a futile effort, Amelia realizes.

It’s why she’s there, standing by the concierge area, waiting awkwardly for the new hire to show up while _both_ Kiara and Gura start making fun of her for it. Amelia and Kiara lean on the cool, marble counter. Gura sits on it, next to Ame, waving her legs idly.

“Ame,” goes Kiara, “you ought to fix up your shirt and tie. And your hair. And maybe ditch the hoodie. God you’re a mess.”

Ame gives her own outfit a once-over. She decides that the general look of unkempt-ness is part of the vibe she’s going for. “I’m not the one that wears ugly old lady Sketchers,” quips Ame.

“Fuck off, those are my _day off_ shoes,” says Kiara. “When I’m in the office I make an effort to be my hottest self. And also, don’t dodge the topic Watson. Ina’nis is gonna be here any minute and you’re gonna leave a poor impression on her after the _one hundred or so year_ wait.”

The pit of Amelia Watson’s stomach feels like static. She wants to run out through the office doors and maybe return to work a month later.

Gura nods sagely. “Yeah dude, she’s gonna take one whiff of ya and then resign on the spot.”

Amelia groans. “Not you too, Gura.”

“Hey man, as your best friend I gotta make sure you get _the ladies_.” She waggles her eyebrows at Ame. Ame groans louder.

“Why are we immediately jumping to the conclusion that I’m gonna try to date her? Why are we acting like she’s “the one that got away” or some shit? And _why are you guys hanging around if I’m gonna be the one to show her around?_ ” says Ame, arms spread out, exasperated.

“Hey we didn’t say that, _you did,”_ Gura points out. Kiara high fives her. Ame groans even louder, now fully accepting that this is simply her new reality.

“Also, Ame pop those tits out it’s literally all you’ve got going for you right now,” says Kiara, demonstrating by sticking her chest out.

“Yeah dude show Ina’nis you got the goods,” adds Gura.

Amelia covers her body in mock indignation. “Hello?! Fucking _HR?! Kindly shut the fuck up about my tits?!”_

They laugh and the nervous knots in Ame’s stomach loosen. Despite the way they were now trying to coach her about “how to best jiggle one’s tits in a professional manner,” they were still her friends and they probably mean well. _But still_ , thinks Ame, _do they have to be such annoying assholes about it_?

“Anyway,” says Kiara, abruptly changing the tone of the conversation. “You think you’re gonna be okay?”

“What do you mean?” asks Ame.

“After all of those… things happened… you were… well you were really miserable for a while there.”

“Yeah,” adds Gura, looking down. “Felt like a part of you died there at the temple, you know?”

“Gura, Calli, and I were worried you were never gonna come back,” says Kiara.

Ame rubs nervously at the back of her neck. “I… ah…” she starts, but falters. “I was just… just disappointed about fucking up at work.”

Kiara raises an eyebrow. A disbelieving look crosses Gura’s features.

“Right,” says Kiara, “you were sad because of _work_.”

Ame nods, looking away.

Kiara places a hand on Ame’s shoulder. “Well, this time will go much, _much_ better than then. Trust me on that one, and for once in your goddamn life choose _yourself_.”

“Wh-what do you?” Ame stammers.

Kiara shoves an envelope into Ame’s arms. Gura hops off of the counter top. She gives Ame’s back two hard pats.

“Look alive, Watson! Your date has arrived!” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

The two start walking away before Ame can say anything. They only turn around to mouth _you got this_ , gesture crudely to their breasts, and mouth _boing boing_.

Ame wants to scream and bail on the situation too, but she turns to find a familiar figure walking through the office glass doors.

It’s her.

All dark purple flowing hair, flattering office wear, and heels clacking against the tiled floors. All smooth, elegant gestures. All of Ninomae Ina’nis, walking toward Amelia Watson. The rush of feelings hit Amelia Watson square in the chest. Thoughts, feelings, memories, all things she’d thought were buried in the sands of time were rapidly rushing back to her.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Ina’nis says, bowing a little, “Kiara had texted me to inform me that you’d be showing me around? Ah. I’m Ninomae Ina’nis by the way, Miss Amelia Watson. I hope you haven’t forgotten me?” she laughs a little, with a tinge of nervousness that the trained detective’s ears don’t miss.

“I could never forget the subject of my first big case,” says Amelia, trying to sound as calm as possible. Her chest thunders in her rib cage. “You look well.”

“You as well,” says Ina’nis, smiling.

All other thoughts are immediately ejected from her mind. The world seems to slow down to a halt. She swears there’s a ringing in her ears. A burning in her chest. There’s only one thought burning bright at the front of her mind:

_Holy crap. She’s so damn beautiful_ . 

Amelia Watson pulls out her pocket watch. Slowly and dumbly looks down at the face and sees that yes, time is still, in fact, moving forward.

“Um, Miss Watson?” asks Ina’nis.

“Oh,” goes Ame, shoving the device back into her pants pocket. “I uh… had to check if time was still going forward.”

A faint, light blush dusts Ina’nis’s cheeks. Amelia feels like her legs are about to give out from right under her. They stare at each other awkwardly for a few beats. Ame, so completely entranced. Ina’nis, unsure as to what she’s supposed to say.

“Oh,” goes Ame, “ _oh. Shit. Sorry._ I didn’t mean for it to sound like –”

“– Like a weird pick up line?” says Ina’nis.

“Like a weird pick up line.” echoes Ame. She wants nothing more than to be absorbed by the earth, curl into a tiny ball, and then throw up. In that order.

Ina’nis hums, as if mulling it over. She presses a finger against her lips, as if to further emphasize the fact that she’s thinking. “Can’t say there’s any other way I can interpret that line,” she says, smiling a little too smugly.

Ame fights valiantly against the urge to stare at Ina’nis’s lips but fails. She stares at them, her mind filled with nothing but the gayest of thoughts. She could swear she’s beginning to feel a little drunk. She shakes her head and realizes she’s supposed to say words now.

Here are the things she wants to say:

1\. Hello, my name is Amelia Watson, it’s nice to see you again. How have you been?

2\. So Kiara from HR is a dick and she made me in charge of showing you around when she’s fully aware about our history.

3\. There’s a storage room on the 5th floor that no one ever goes to. We should go there and make out. Now.

This is what she says:

“Hello, Amelia showing you around storage on the 5th floor how you been?”

“Um?” goes Ina’nis, struggling to contain laughter. “Excuse me?”

Amelia runs a hand through her hair. “I think I’m having a stroke,” she says, plainly.

And Ina’nis laughs. The sound makes Amelia’s insides melt. She feels a bit like she’s floating. A bit like she never wants the moment to end. A bit like she should definitely restart the whole conversation so she can salvage some of her dignity.

“Not gonna rewind time to re-do things, are we, detective?” Ina’nis asks, playfully, as if somehow reading Amelia’s mind.

Ame chuckles. Takes a deep breath and regains her composure. “Naw, that’s just a scummy thing to do.” She hands Ina’nis the envelope. “Well then, Miss Ninomae Ina’nis, let’s get going?”

“Come now Ame, that’s Ina to you. Let’s do away with all the formalities, yes?”

Ina smiles warmly at Ame. In the detective’s mind, it feels like a warm gust of wind over an open field, flowers blooming and scattering their petals. _It’s not fair_ , she thinks, _it’s not fair that she gets to do this to me_.

“Of course, Ina,” she says.

_______

Amelia knocks on the large, wood, ornate door of Calli’s office.

“Ame, that you? Come in dude!” goes her voice, muffled.

The detective opens the door, finds Calli sitting in her perpetually dim office, on her unnecessarily ornate office chair. On her desk, a pen holder with a couple of pens and a pride flag, a high-end computer, a framed photo of her and Kiara.

“How’d the office tour go?” asks Calli, gesturing to the seat in front of Calli’s large, mahogany desk. She pours out a glass of whiskey for both of them. Offers one to Amelia. Takes a sip out of hers and leans back in her seat. “Kiara told me it went well?”

“Went well, yeah,” goes Ame, taking a sip out of her cup. It burns, good, drawing a line of fire down her throat. “ _Oh boy_ ,” she goes.

“Good shit, right?” says Calli, savoring her drink. “Kiara got it for me. Said to try something other than cheap wine.”

“Certainly a step up,” says Ame. “You said you wanted to speak with me?”

“Just wanted to… check on you.”

“Ah,” goes Ame. She takes a bigger swig out of her drink. “This is about Ina again.”

“We’re just worried about you, my dude. You were, quite literally, at death’s door when we pulled you outta there that time.” Calli swirls the drink in her hand. Stares deep into it. “Just wanted to make sure things were okay on your end. I don’t think you were quite happy with how it all concluded, you know?”

Ame mirrors her friend. Stares into the drink. “I was a mess, yeah.”

Calli takes a sip of her drink. “You’d abused your powers to the point you weren’t sure who, where, or _when_ you were.”

“Learned my lesson after that,” says Ame, laughing a little too bitterly.

Calli turns to look Ame head-on. “I know I said this back then too, but… I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you guys then.”

_Ah,_ thinks Ame,  _there it is._ She downs the rest of her drink. She feels warmer. Dizzier. A little bolder. “I’m sorry too, boss.”

“I also heard you’re pulling way too much overtime than you need to.”

“Overtime is fine. What else am I supposed to do?”

Calli finishes her drink as well. “I dunno man, find something to actually  _live for_ .”

“Pretty ironic, coming from the embodiment of death itself.”

Calli laughs. Booming. Echoing. Filling the room. “Yeah, it’s ya boi, telling you to stop working so hard.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You know,” says Calli, leaning forward on her desk. She rests her chin on the palm of her hand. “I think Ina ending up here is an opportunity.”

“Gura and Kiara been telling you weird shit, huh?”

“Yeah,” says Calli, chuckling. “They’re not wrong though.” 

“Alright, pour me another and maybe I’ll tell you about how _I really feel,”_ says Ame, grinning, offering her cup.

“After work, Watson! You’re on the clock my dude, finish work and go drink with Ina or some shit, alright?” answers Calli, laughing.

_______

It’s a few days later and Amelia Watson takes a long drag out of her cigarette as she watches clouds crawl by across the blue sky on the office rooftop. She’s leaning against a wall, gravel crunching underfoot as she adjusts her footing and crosses one leg over the other.

She blows out smoke, exhales deeply. Her shoulders feel stiff. Her upper back feels tight. She feels a slight headache coming on. Amelia tries her hardest not to think about the stack of paperwork on her desk. About the load of field work she still needs to go through. About work, work, work, and nothing but _work_. The detective takes another, agonizingly long drag out of her cigarette. Blows out the smoke with a long, dejected sigh.

The rooftop door opens with a heavy _kachunk_ and Ina steps out. Watson is surprised to see her but doesn’t say anything. Opts instead to smile, wave. Ina waves back, makes her way to the smoking area.

“Didn’t know you guys allowed access to the rooftop,” says Ina.

“Yeah,” answers Ame, “we mostly use it as a smoking area though. You smoke?”

“Oh no,” goes Ina, “I uh, just wanted some fresh air.” She stretches, looks up at the bright blue sky. Leans on the wall like Ame.

Amelia looks at the wispy cloud of smoke she’d just expelled. Looks down at her half-smoked cigarette. She moves to snuff it out in the ashtray and discard the butt.

“Oh no,” says Ina, “I don’t… I don’t mind. You didn’t… you didn’t have to do that.”

Amelia shrugs. Grins. “I was done with it anyway.”

An odd expression crosses Ina’s features. “If you say so,” she says.

Watson gets the unbearable feeling she made the atmosphere a little awkward. “Uh, so how are you finding it in the company so far?” she decides to ask.

“It’s good so far,” says Ina politely. Ame traces the other woman’s line of vision to find that she’s staring at the ashtray. Looks back at Ina to find her now focused on the detective. “The people are… interesting,” says Ina.

_______

Days turn into weeks and nothing particularly interesting happens in Amelia Watson’s life. Wake up. Work. Eat. Overtime. Go home. Sleep. The endless cycle of corporate servitude.

She hates to admit it, but her interactions with Ina are limited to the standard “Hi” and “Hello” exchanged along hallways, a small “So how’s your day?” when caught in the elevator together. The needlessly awkward “Haha this weather, am I right?” when they catch each other entering the office building or when they chance each other on the office rooftop.

Here are the facts, which Amelia Watson finds her mind wandering to more often than she’d like:

1\. When they’d first met, they were both in their 20s – young, reckless, wild. Amelia was a newly minted detective getting used to her powers, a simple CLASS D-5 Entity (D-level threat with newly acquired abilities). Ina’nis had just read the book that had altered her life entirely, a young woman now burdened with immense eldritch powers.

2\. It had been about a hundred or so years since they first met, since the time they shared together where nothing really meaningful actually took place. To be precise, it’s been 122 years since the case’s conclusion. Watson did the math, during a meeting, her eyes pulled toward the new hire almost against her will. This is the thought that stuck around the back of Amelia Watson’s mind the most. An endless gallery of thoughts and memories that plagued her as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, willing sleep to free of her of the torture of her own design. All the little regrets that went “ _oh we could have held hands then,”_ “ _ah, I thought I was being clever but I just said something s_ _tupid_ _,_ ” and the worst one being “ _I should have told her what I was feeling about her, but fuck, the moment passed and now it’s definitely a hundred_ _and_ _twenty_ _two_ _years too late_.”

3\. Ninomae Ina’nis is very attractive. She was then, 122 years ago. She is now, somehow even more so.

Amelia Watson hates to admit it, but she does want more. Wants to talk to Ina more, know her better now that the end of the world isn’t weighing them down. Wants to ask her out. Maybe coffee. Maybe some drinks after work. Maybe, Maybe.

Amelia Watson stares vacantly at the at the office ceiling. There is nothing but the endless expanse of ceiling tiles. Rows of florescent lights, the humming of which are all she hears. She feels like her soul is on the verge of leaving her body. She looks down, at her computer’s clock. 11:48 pm. There she is again, pulling overtime like it’s nobody’s business.

She leans far back into her office seat. It squeaks and groans under her weight, the old, lumpy thing ready to give way. Stacked on her desk is an endless pile of paperwork. She exhales, loudly. She doesn’t get paid enough for this shit.

She swivels around mindlessly. She thinks she should maybe ask for Ina’s number sometime. She immediately feels embarrassed just thinking about the concept. How would that work? How do people even ask for numbers again? Amelia groans.

This is Kiara’s fault for hiring Ina, Ame thinks. And also Ina’s fault… for being… cute. It’s because Ina does that thing where she steeples her hands a particular way. Because she has a habit of covering her mouth when she laughs, as if too shy about the sweet sound of her laughter. Because Ina has this effortless kind of style to her and she somehow always looks so elegant. Amelia Watson feels like throwing herself onto the office’s carpeted floor and curling up into a ball.

She hears a door opening and closing. The rattling of keys. Amelia instantly sits up, trying to see who it could be. Too early to be Gura doing her nightly rounds. Those usually start on midnight on the dot.

It’s Ina, looking a little worse for wear, locking up her department’s room. They make eye contact.

“Oh!” they go at each other, in unison. Ina drops her keys. Squeals (cutely, Watson thinks) and quickly bends to pick it up. Looking around and finding no one else in the office, she makes her way to Ame’s cubicle.

“Hey there,” says Ame, “it’s late newbie.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Ah yeah,” says Ame, “sometimes I feel like I live here already.”

Ina grimaces at the stack of paperwork on Ame’s desk. “Don’t tell me you’re going to have to finish this all off tonight?”

“You thought eldritch entities were a detective’s greatest enemy? Nope. It’s actually paperwork. _Heart disease_ , leading cause of death among dumb detectives.” Ame laughs.

“Hey now,” goes Ina, “I’m a _little_ offended at that. Eldritch entities do their best to contribute to the detective life cycle you know.”

It’s unfair, thinks Ame, how Ina still manages to look _so fine_ even when she’s all disheveled. It’s like the perfect kind of disheveled, really. The first few buttons of her dress shirt opened, her hair just that right amount of fussed, that half-lidded, _just-sexy-enough_ look of exhaustion.

Watson stops herself from thinking any more dangerous thoughts. She reminds herself that she probably looks like a mess. And not the hot variety too. She sits up a little straighter. Clears her throat. Tries to run her hand through her hair to comb it out a bit as casually as she can.

“Is that a threat, Miss Ninomae?” she teases.

“Only if you want it to be, Miss Watson,” Ina fires back. She winks. Ame’s heart flips over.

“I can already feel you exacerbating the symptoms of long-term heart disease,” says Ame, regretting every word the moment they slip past her lips. She keeps her face as stoic as possible but she starts screaming at herself on the inside. _God ew,_ she thinks to herself, _the fuck was that Watson get your game together_.

Ina’s eyes widen. For a moment Watson considers beating her to the punch and calling Kiara herself to confess to her dirty crimes of “gross banter” against a coworker. The priestess laughs. Ame is pleasantly surprised. The sound reminds the detective of the tinkling of chimes. Her heart flips over, again.

“That’s a new one,” goes Ina, “haven’t heard a detective accuse me of that before.”

“You threaten a lot of detectives before?” says Ame, eager to keep the banter going.

“You first,” says Ina, “tell me how many eldritch priestesses you charmed with that wit of yours.”

_Oh god,_ comes the thought careening through Amelia Watson’s exhausted brain, _are we actually flirting right now!?_ Her heart is flipping over, again and again, and she’s fairly convinced she’s really going to die of heart disease. 

“Sorry,” goes Ina, “am I distracting you from your work?”

Amelia’s face feels incredibly warm. This woman is going to be the death of her, she’s sure. She waves it off. “Nah, I don’t get paid enough.” She stands, stretches. Wills the blood in her face to spread out to her extremities so she can regain some of her dignity. “Hey, how about I walk you out?  I’m gonna go for some coffee from the convenience store across the street.”

“Pantry coffee not good enough?” asks Ina.

“I like the coffee from the convenience store more. They also sell really tasty tiny donuts,” answers Ame.

“Well, I could use the company, but only if you don’t mind.”

“Heh,” goes Ame, picking up her phone and wallet from her desk. “After you, Miss Ninomae.”

“What a gentlewoman,” says Ina, with a smile.

They walk to their floor’s elevator hall. Push on the down button and wait for the elevator’s slow crawl up from the first floor. Amelia can see their reflection, the two of them standing side by side, reflected back by the shiny elevator doors. Ina and her long dark hair, her coat, her scarf, her pencil skirt, and her long, slender limbs. Ame and her messy blonde hair, her hoodie, her dress shirt, her dress pants, and her shorter, lanky stature. They look like quite the duo, Ame thinks.

“Hey,” goes Amelia, a random thought popping up in her mind. “Mind if I ask something weird?”

Ina hums. “You can ask but I’ll think about whether or not I’ll answer.”

“You been in any pacts with anyone else?”

“Hm?”

“You know,” Ame elaborates, “like those pacts where you lend someone part of your power and they sell you their soul or something… like… like what we did.” Ame immediately regrets asking her dumb question. She regrets every life decision she’s ever made and resists the urge to just run screaming and hurl herself down the emergency exit stairs. She looks to the elevator panel. It sure is taking its sweet, sweet time.

“Oh,” goes Ina. “Those.” She mulls it over. Something seems to flash in her eyes. Quickly, barely even noticeable. “I haven’t. But I’ve always considered it.”

“Oh,” echoes Ame.

“Are you curious?”

“Hmm?”

“About all the other detectives I’ve met? If it’s possible to form another pact with the same person?” says Ina. She takes a step closer, bridging the gap between the two. There’s an ominous, otherworldly glow to her purple eyes. The room feels darker, the air thicker. Ame looks to the elevator panel. The thing seems to be ascending slower than ever before.

“Based on my own research,” goes Ina, and she quickly steps behind Amelia, too quickly for the detective to react to.

Words freeze at the back of Ame’s throat. Ina deftly slides a gloved hand around Ame’s head, tilting her head to the side gently. With the other she steadies Ame’s shoulder, exposing her neck to Ina as the taller woman bends down.

“It can be a simple transaction, in nature,” says Ina. Her breath feels incredibly warm on Ame’s skin. She can feel her face heating up a thousand degrees too hot. “You’d give me something, and I’d give you something in return. We can do it again and again with little to no consequence.”

Ina hovers close. Dangerously close. In the reflection of the elevator doors Amelia catches the glint of pointed fangs. Sees Ina staring intently at Amelia. Sees the priestess inches away from sinking her teeth into the pulse point at the base of Ame’s neck. The detective feels like her heart might burst. Her pulse thunders way faster than it should.

And as quickly as she gets close, she backs away immediately, hands up in front of her. The room grows brighter. The ominous, heavy air now replaced by an intensely awkward atmosphere.

“Sorry,” goes Ina, the tips of her ears bright red. “I took it too far, didn’t I?” Ame is certain her entire face is as red as a tomato.

“Wh-what was that about?” Ame manages.

Ina looks away. “I-I’m not quite sure myself,” she says. An obvious lie to the detective. “Really sorry about that, I really am,” says Ina, cringing at herself.

The elevator conveniently chimes and the doors slide open. The two remain rooted to the spot, gaping at each other. The doors slide shut. Amelia quickly moves to press the button. The doors open again.

“U-uh,” she manages, “a-after you.”

Ina looks to the open door. Looks to Ame. Looks to the door again. The doors slide shut. Ina moves to press the button. The doors open again.

“N-no,” says Ina, flustered, “um. After you. I’ll uh, take the next elevator.”

“I-it’s fine, really,” goes Ame. The doors slide shut. Again. Ame pushes the button. Again. The doors slide open. Again.

Ina hesitates. “I’m really sorry,” she says.

Ame chuckles, throws her arm over the doors just as they attempt to close again. “It’s fine,” she asserts, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. “I guess we just sorta got swept up in the moment. Pacts, detectives, eldritch priestesses... just comes with the history maybe?”

“I guess you can say our backgrounds are quite… Im _pact_ ful on the nature our relationship?” says Ina, giggling to herself.

Ame grimaces. Tries her hardest not to laugh. Laughs anyway. “Alright enough of that, let’s just get in the elevator already. Jeez, hopefully you don’t make a habit of threatening to bite the shit out of your coworkers. Could get you into some real trouble with HR.”

“Ah, sorry again,” goes Ina, stepping into the elevator. “I’ll do my best to… _elevate_ my sense of humor from here on out.”

Ame laughs despite her efforts not to. Steps into the elevator as well and pushes the button for the ground floor. “Uhuh,” she goes, shaking her head. The doors shut and the elevator rumbles to life as it begins its steady descent. “You’re forgiven for your puns against humanity.”

Ina laughs. “How about I treat you to your coffee to make it up to you?”

“Fair trade.”

Ame tries to look at Ina from the corner of her eye. Tries to stand as… casually as possible in the elevator space. A foot away. A respectable, normal distance. Yes. This is fine. She looks at the way Ina checks her phone, her purse. How she picks out a piece of lint from her coat. She catches Amelia Watson staring like a dumbass. Smiles softly. She bows her head ever so slightly, as if to apologize again, wordlessly. Ame smiles back, awkwardly, and then looks away quickly.

_Holy shit,_ Ame thinks to herself,  _get it together Watson, what are you, fifteen!?_

A few moments of awkward silence seems to stretch into forever until they finally reach the ground floor. The elevator doors open and they find Gura standing there, trident in hand. She looks surprised for a second as the duo steps out. The shark narrows her eyes at the two.

“ _Oho_ ,” she goes. “What do we have here?”

Ame takes a peek at her pocket watch. Midnight, on the dot. “ You heading out to do your nightly patrol, shark breath?”

“Yup!” goes Gura, chest puffed out. “Never been late to a single patrol.” Her expression shifts. Gura smirks, leans forward teasingly toward her friend. “But _you_ , you have a companion today, hmm? Is this… is this _love_ I smell in the air?”

I na laughs awkwardly. Ame feels like throwing Gura across the hall. Instead she grins devilishly at the shorter girl. 

“Did you know,” quips Ame, “that having a predictable, incredibly precise, and consistent patrol can actually be a major security flaw?”

“Wh-Wha?” goes Gura.

“Yeah. It makes it easy for a _possible intruder_ to anticipate and plan for your every move.”

Gura blinks.

“Can you imagine?” continues Ame. “What if, all this time, intruders have been slipping in and out unnoticed because you’re so good at sticking to your schedule?”

“I,” gapes the little shark, “but… I… punctuality…”

“Mhm, _punctuality_ ,” echoes Ame, nodding.

Ina giggles. Gura looks like she’s about to have a migraine.

“Alright fish brain, don’t let us keep you from maintaining your _perfectly predictable_ routine, have fun with your little existential crisis!” Ame chuckles, motions with her head toward the office exit, and starts walking. Ina follows suit. 

The brisk night air feels pleasant on Ame’s skin. The two walk side by side, the streets mostly empty. They walk into the convenience store, the door chiming as they enter. Over the speakers plays a pop song. The store is empty save from them and the half asleep cashier standing by the counter. Ame makes a beeline for the display case for the mini donuts and the coffee machine. Ina hovers close.

“Kinda stereotypical,” she observes.

“ _Hey_ ,” goes Ame, “donuts and coffee are a very standard combination.”

The detective moves to push a button on the coffee machine. It whirs to life, automatically brewing her selection. She grabs a pair of tongs and selects a few donuts. “You want some?” she asks.

She turns to see Ina, seemingly paying close attention to the coffee Ame had selected. To the donuts she had picked. As if studying, remembering. There’s a look of softness in her features that Ame doesn’t understand, but wants to. “Ina?” Ame asks.

Ina shakes her head. “Sorry,” she says, “I’m good. I guess I wanted to remember what you picked. For reference.”

“For reference?”

“In case I need to bribe you in the future, detective.”

Ame laughs. Ina seems pleased that her joke had landed. “Nice of you to think that _you’ll_ be doing the bribing between us,” says Ame.

Ina chuckles. “I _am_ bribing you right now, just a reminder.”

Ame collects her coffee as the machine beeps. “Ah, you’re right. Heh. Thanks for the meal!”

Ina frowns. “This isn’t a real dinner Ame.” There’s a gentleness to the priestess’s voice that makes Ame feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Part of her wants to be whiny, to complain about work and ask Ina to care for her and feed her and pamper her all she wants. She sighs a little. Puts on an air of confidence.

“Coffee, donuts, cigarettes, and attention from beautiful women are all I need to survive,” Ame tells Ina, winking. “Shall we head to the register?”

Ina laughs a little. “Okay,” she says.

After they pay for the food, they walk out, Ame happily swinging the paper bag of donuts her hand. There’s an odd look to Ina’s eyes. Her stance. Her body language. As if there’s something she wants to say. As if lingering, for one reason or another.

A small, small part of Amelia Watson would like to believe that maybe Ninomae Ina’nis was looking for a reason to spend a few seconds more with the detective. But it feels conceited. Wishful. A reality that could have been if only she had been more capable more than a hundred years ago.

So Amelia Watson decides to think about work.

“Thanks again, Ina,” she says, grinning. “Gonna head back now, you gonna be okay?” A part of Ame dies a little. She wants to ditch work. She wants to walk Ina to the bus station. Wants to spend more time with her. Know her more. More of Ina. _Ina_.

_Work,_ Ame reminds herself,  _no time for this. It’s past. Just focus on work, buddy._

“Ah, uh, yes. Of course,” goes Ina, laughing nervously. “I’ll uh, I’ll be off now, okay?” There, briefly, a look crossing Ina’s features. Sad. Disappointed maybe? Amelia does her best to steel herself against these assumptions. A horrible feeling burns at her gut. Like then, like a hundred years ago.

She feels like she’s making a mistake. Again.

Ina turns, starts to walk down the street.

“Hey Ina,” Watson shouts out.

Ina looks back. “Y-yes?”

“Have a great evening!”

The sad expression on the other woman’s face eases somewhat. “You too. Try to take it easy, detective.”

And Amelia Watson heads back to work. Status quo.


	2. Of bribes and octopi

The coffee in the pantry had gone stale. Again. It’s just Watson’s luck, really, to be the one that gets to drink acidic stale coffee and brew a new pot for all her coworkers to enjoy.

She hums to herself, alone in the pantry. Pours out the dregs of the coffee. Rinses out the filter and the pot. She’s in the middle of measuring out the next brew when Ina walks into the pantry, mug in hand.

“Ah, just in time Ina,” says Ame. “You get to take the first cup. Watson blend. People say I brew it too strong but I think the heart palpitations are a _feature_ and not a concern.”

Ina looks to the machine as it sputters to life, to the mug of coffee next to Ame. “You not getting any of your fresh brew?” she asks.

Ame takes a sip out of her mug. It tastes like burnt rubber. “Don’t like wasting coffee.”

Ina hums, mulling it over. “May I?” she says, gesturing to Ame’s mug.

Ame passes her mug, confused.

Ina pours out half of the contents into her own mug. “You’re too nice sometimes, you know that?” she says.

“Wha –” goes Watson as Ina hands the mug back.

“Cheers!” says Ina, as she turns to leave the pantry.

_______

It’s the end of Amelia Watson’s shift.

It’s the end of her shift and yet the desk in front of her is clear of the usual stack of paperwork. She blinks at the empty space, disbelieving. Turns to look out the nearest window to find that it’s still daylight out. Turns to look at her vacant desk once more. Yup, she’s still clear to leave work on time.

“How…?” goes Ame, under her breath.

In her periphery, the detective catches a familiar scene, a head of silver hair peeking on her over her cubicle’s divider. Gura steps out, hands held out like little claws.

“ _Shaaaaaaa_!” she goes.

“Gura did you finally lose your fucking mind and eat my paperwork?” says Ame, immediately.

“Wha? No? Hey man what am I, a dog?”

“No, dumbass, you’re a shark,” Ame deadpans. “Now where’s the rest of my work? Cough it up stinky.”

Gura chuckles. “ _Oho_ _Watson_ , you underestimate me! Gura! Senior Security Officer! CLASS 1-B Envy!”

“It’s CLASS B-1 Entity, but go on,” says Watson, laughing too.

The shark clears her throat. “Uh. Yes. Of course. That.” She flips her hair dramatically. “While you, the supposed ‘Number One Detective’ wasn’t watching, I, ‘Shark of Atlantis,’ carried out the heist of _the century_!”

“So you came to my desk and took my paperwork while I took a bathroom break five minutes ago.”

“… Yeah.”

“What a complicated mystery to solve,” goes Ame. “Do tell, _suspect_ , what is your motive and who is the mastermind?”

“Dude,” goes Gura, “you know I’m mildly hurt that you went ahead and assumed that this wasn’t my idea.”

Ame shrugs. She squints a little. “Gura you have bits of food on your face. C’mon you gotta make me work for this mystery. There’s your motive, you did it for food.”

Gura grins broadly, pointed teeth glinting in the office light. Ame can more clearly see the crumbs at the corners of the shark’s mouth. Some kind of pastry, probably. Sticky and bread-like. “Y’see, I was bribed,” goes Gura.

“Go on…?”

“Oh, I was actually _explicitly told_ to share the bribe with you,” says Gura, pulling out a crumpled up paper bag from her hoodie pocket. She opens it. Produces a single, half-eaten tiny donut. “H-here,” she goes, hand shaking as she offers the food item to her friend, “your uh, cut.”

Ame scrunches her face at the offering. “Ew you probably got shark rabies all over it or some shit.”

“Hey _I do not have rabies,”_ goes Gura, angrily. Under her breath she adds, “ _I got my shots all updated last month._ ”

The detective laughs. “Whatever, I don’t want your half-eaten scraps Gura. You can eat it.”

Gura happily consumes the item. Barely even chews it.

“So,” goes Ame. “Spill. Who put you up to this?”

The shark squints. Her tail twitching idly behind her. Ame figures out that whoever gave her the instructions gave her _too many_ instructions. So that eliminates Calli. Usually the pair would only come up with a single-step plan.

“Are you trying to remember if they said it’s okay for you to disclose their identity?” asks Ame, chuckling to herself.

Gura squints harder. Ame begins to worry that the girl’s face might somehow collapse in itself. The fact that there are somehow multiple clauses to the agreement and none of them include “Gloat about it in Ame’s face” means that it isn’t Kiara.

The gears in Watson’s brain click. The donuts. The subtlety. The secrecy. _No,_ thinks Ame, _you’re just being gay. There’s no fucking way._

Ame leans far forward, leaning over close to Gura. She whispers, embarrassed that she even has this deduction. She feels immensely fidgety. Her heart rate skyrockets. An incredible excitement settles on her bones and flutters in her stomach. “Bro,” she goes, trying to be calm, “bro.”

“Dude,” goes Gura, also whispering, “dude.”

“Bro… was it… bro…”

“Yeah…? Dude…?”

“ _Bro. No way._ ”

“ _Dude? I don’t think I’m following._ ”

Ame takes a sharp inhale of breath. She contains the intense need to start screaming. “It’s… Ina?”

Gura laughs. “Aw yeah, it’s her.” And after a beat she goes, “Oh shit I think she said I shouldn’t tell you. _Fuck_.”

“But why though?” asks Ame.

“Uh, did you seriously just ask _why_ the hot girl you have some kind of unexplored romantic tension with would steal your work so you wouldn’t do overtime?”

“Shut up Gura.”

Gura takes a deep breath. Gets ready to shout out loud. “ _IT’S BECAUSE SHE LI-_ ” and the rest of the sentence is muffled as Ame dives forward to cup over the shark’s mouth with her hand.

“ _No, Gura, No,”_ insists Amelia Watson, who is definitely a very smart detective. “That’s just crazy talk, okay? Don’t even say it out loud. That’s just dumb.”

She lets go of Gura, who laughs. “Okay detective dumb gay,” she says. “Have it your infuriatingly stupid way.” She turns to leave, sticks her tongue out at Ame. “You should probably take the opportunity and go home. I’ve held my end of the bargain. I’m dipping. Later, stinky.”

“Later, fish brain,” answers Ame as she stands and heads out on her quest to confront the culprit.

_______

Ame walks into the marketing department’s room. It’s only a handful of cubicles, most of them now empty for the day. There, in the corner, she finds her quarry. Ame takes a deep breath. Tries to still her too-fast heart. Wills herself to be at least five percent less gay so she can focus on the conversation she’s about to have. Walks up to Ina as she works on a familiar stack of paperwork.

“Hey there Ina,” goes Watson, entering Ina’s cubicle space. The area is neat, organized. There are several sticky notes pasted on the wall. In a corner is a still steaming coffee from the convenience store across the street. A little baggy of what are definitely tiny donuts. Shoved to the side is her drawing tablet, making room for the unusual stack of papers. “Stealing work now are we? Now, I know desk jockey work can pretty much be done by just anyone, but I’m fairly sure this is still out of your jurisdiction.”

“Ah,” goes Ina, “my crime has been discovered.”

“Ina you sent a shark after a detective,” goes Ame, laughing. “What are you, a Bond villain?”

Ina clears her throat. She swivels in her seat to face away from Ame. She crosses her legs, folds her hands over her lap. She swivels, again, slowly, to dramatically face the detective. Plastered on the priestess’s face is her best impression of what “Oooh no, it’s a bad guy!” should look like. It mostly looks like she’s about to sneeze.

“ _Hhwatshonn, we meet agein,_ ” she says, her voice sounding like an odd mixture of rubber duck and old timey cartoon villain.

“Wh… _What was that_ ,” goes Ame, completely dumbfounded.

The two break out into laughter. Starting out as awkward chuckles then growing into gales of unrestrained joy.

“S-sorry,” Ina manages between laughs, “I… I don’t… I don’t even know.”

“Yeah okay,” goes Ame. Her stomach begins to cramp from laughing.

“Can you please forget I ever did that?”

“Oh no can do Ina, you’re never living that down.”

Watson takes a swivel chair from a nearby cubicle. Drags it closer to Ina’s workstation. She sits on it backwards, resting her arms and chin on the seat’s backrest as she watches Ina resume her effort to chip away at the paperwork. A look of focus is on her features. Ame finds it fascinating to watch. It’s like the same expression she used to make when she’d draw, back at the temple, back in their past.

Ina continues to pick away at the work pile. The glow of the computer is reflected on her glasses.

Ame reaches out. “Here, let me help you,” she says.

Ina’s hand darts out, quicker, defending the stack of paperwork from the detective. There’s a possessive glint in her eyes. A small frown on her lips.

“No,” says Ina, “that would defeat the purpose.”

“The purpose being…?”

“I…” starts Ina. She stops. Her expression relaxes. She withdraws her hand. A small, patient smile finds its way on her lips again. “You do so much for others, it’s not bad to let people care for you sometimes.”

“Okay,” goes Ame. She’s unsure what else she’s supposed to say, really.

“You can… you can go home if you want,” says Ina. Her expression is calm. Her hand steady as she scribbles on forms. The flaps on the top of her head give away her nervousness.

Ame chuckles. “Naw.”

Ina reaches for the paper bag of donuts and the coffee. Sets them nearby Ame. “At least uh, have this. It’s for you.”

Ame looks to the offerings. To Ina. “You prepared for this,” she observes, smirking.

The priestess chuckles. “You know me,” she says, “I like being prepared.”

Watson realizes that Ina refuses to look away from the paperwork on purpose. The detective is familiar with the body language. With the general behavior. Ina probably feels nervous, awkward. Which is fine, because Ame feels just as nervous and awkward.

It’s scary, almost, how more than a hundred years have passed between them but so much is the same. Slightly different. But the same, in many ways.

A blush blooms on Ina’s cheeks. “Um,” she goes, looking down.

“Hm?” goes Ame.

“Your uh, hand.”

Amelia Watson looks down to find that she’d unconsciously reached out to hold Ina’s hand.

“Oh, _uh, shit, sorry_ ,” goes Ame, startled. She moves to pull away. Ina turns her hand to hold on to Ame’s. She looks away, turns her head to stare at the wall.

“I don’t mind,” says Ina, quietly. She moves to intertwine their fingers. Ame doesn’t fight against it.

Ame stares intensely at their hands, at the way they’re holding onto one another. A little too tightly to say it’s casual, their arms at too awkward of angles to say it’s comfortable. There’s intent. Desperation, almost. A need to bridge a gap right then and there.

“I’m sorry,” says Ina, still looking away.

“Hm?”

“I went ahead and took your work. I think I was being too brash.”

“Oh.”

A pause. Ame mulls this over. She recalls, in the past, how Ina always went out of her way to make sure that Ame was cared for. Pampered, even. How it always shone through in the conversations they had and the choices Ina would make. There she was, a detective investigating a newly crowned priestess, and yet somehow, _somehow,_ it was always the latter that ensured dinner was something the detective enjoyed eating. Even a hundred years couldn’t stamp out that habit. Ame laughs. It’s weird, thinks the detective, that it was Ina going out of her way to save Ame from herself but somehow the priestess is the apologetic one.

Ina looks at Ame, confused.

“Work sucks anyway,” says Ame. “I’ll accept the donuts and the coffee as an apology.”

They continue to hold hands. Ame squeezes.

“Let me help,” she says.

“Okay,” Ina answers.

_______

“So,” goes Gura, standing next to Ame in their usual spot on the office rooftop. “You guys held hands for a bit and then you and Ina finished working and you guys individually went home?”

“Yeah,” says Ame, sighing. An unlit cigarette hangs from her lips. A dopey smile is plastered on her face. She swears she can still feel the lingering warmth of Ina’s hand pressed against hers. She holds her hand up to look at it. Presses the hand against her cheek. Savoring the memory. Again.

Gura rolls her eyes. “Ew. Okay if I knew you’d be like this maybe I wouldn’t have encouraged this whole thing.”

“Shut up Gura let me have this.”

“ _Please_ tell me you at least got her number. Her LINE ID. _Something_.”

“Her what now?”

Gura slaps the palm of her hand against her forehead so quickly and so strongly that Ame’s sure it’s going to leave a red mark. “ _Oh my fucking god Watson_ you’re so useless!”

“Hey man I was… I was…” the last word hangs on to the tip of Ame’s tongue. “… nervous,” she says, very softly, very quietly.

Gura lets out a deep exhale. Shrugs. “Anyway are you gonna light that thing or what?”

“Hmm?”

“Your cigarette. You’ve had it out but you haven’t lit it yet.”

Ame takes her unlit cigarette from between her lips. Examines it as she holds it between her fingers. “I dunno,” she mulls. “Maybe I’ll quit.”

Gura’s eyes go a little wide. “Woah. You, quitting?”

The detective slips the item between her lips again. Pulls her lighter out. Moves to light it but stops. She remembers Ina, beside her on the rooftop. Ina, back at the temple where they’d first met. A stone temple, vast and spacious on the inside, with tall pillars that reached up into the sky and with marble floors that felt so cold to the touch. She remembers the way the priestess had frowned when Ame first smoked in front of her, as the priestess knelt in front of the carved stone altar, and the detective, with shaking, shaking hands, lit the cigarette between her lips. The memory feels painful. Fuzzy. It makes her senses go a little dull and her heart press against the bones of her rib cage.

“I don’t think Ina likes the smell,” says Amelia Watson, solemnly, quietly.

“Like the smell of what?” asks Ina.

Ame quickly turns around to find Ina standing behind her, waving politely.

“Sorry, did I sneak up on you?” Ina asks.

“Uh,” goes Ame. How much of the conversation had she heard?

“I’m sorry,” repeats Ina. She reaches out, gently takes the cigarette between Ame’s lips and slips it between her own. She takes Ame’s lighter, and the detective watches on, dumbfounded. _Chk chk chk_ , goes the item, and it lights up. Ina takes a drag, the end of the cigarette glowing red. She turns to exhale the smoke, away from Ame. The priestess takes the lit cigarette and then slips it back between Amelia Watson’s lips, who barely has the presence of mind to make sure it doesn’t slip off and fall down.

“I know… I know I was a little bit cold back then,” says Ina. She chuckles, a little too bitterly. “I say _a little_ but you know how it was for a while.” She looks away, bites on her bottom lip. “I just struggled with expressing myself. I really don’t mind. The smoking, I mean.”

The sound of air being sucked in between the gaps of teeth. Gura, standing beside the two, one hand planted on her waist and the other on the top of her head, as if nursing a headache. “God you two are so gay,” she muses out loud.

The two snap out of their gay angst to look at the shorter girl. They both blush, deep red.

“Hey Ina, did you know that a long while back ago I took Watson to the aquarium to cheer her up from her not-breakup with you and then she cried cuz she saw an octopus?” says the shark girl, grinning from ear to ear.

“ _Hey!_ ” goes Ame, nearly dropping her cigarette. “ _What the fuck Gura, that was supposed to be a secret!_ ”

“Wait,” interjects Ina, “so that’s true?”

“ _N-no,_ ” stammers Ame.

“It’s totally true Ina,” goes Gura, the shit-eating grin on her face only growing. “She was all ‘ _sob sob, hic hic, I wonder how Ina’s doing these days… hic…’_ ” She pretends to swoon, pretends to tearfully cry, further mocking her friend.

Ame pulls out her revolver. “Okay Gura I’m going to fucking shoot you now.”

Gura shrieks, laughing, and proceeds to run for it. The shorter girl is agile and makes it to the door before Ame can even cock the gun. She’s about ready to give chase to really give her friend a piece of her mind when she feels Ina tugging at her wrist. The sound of Gura’s flute-like screaming grows fainter and fainter, the rooftop door shutting behind her. Ame remains rooted to the spot, now turning to look at Ina, now lost in deep purple eyes.

“Wait,” says Ina, laughing.

Ame says nothing. She looks briefly toward the door, decides that she’ll just enact her revenge on Gura some other time and puts the gun away. She looks at Ina again. Looks at the gentle way Ina’s holding Ame’s wrist. The priestess reaches further down. Slowly, tentatively. They hold hands again, fingers intertwining.

“Yeah?” goes Ame. Her face feels warm. Her stomach full of a thousand little butterflies on the verge of bursting free.

Ina hums. “We never really talked much about the past, huh?”

Ame chuckles. “Yeah. I guess we were both kinda eager to put it behind us.”

“Do you think we should though? Maybe… I don’t know… catch up? Exchange stories about what we’ve been up to these past hundred or so years?” asks Ina.

The detective feels like her chest is swelling. Hopeful, hopeful, the feeling. The ashes at the tip of her cigarette fall off. This is it, isn’t it? An opportunity to ask the girl out on a date. Amelia Watson’s brain cells scramble to pull together a string of words coherent enough to get this across.

“Yeah sure,” is all she manages to say, but she’s smiling.

Ina smiles back. Her grip on Ame’s hand tightens, ever so slightly. “Alright!” she says, her voice brighter. “There’s this coffee shop I’ve been wanting to visit. Coffee, donuts, cigarettes, and attention from beautiful women are all you need, yes? I’m sure the place will tick all the boxes.”

“Wait,” goes Ame, laughing. “Are you implying that you’re the beautiful…” she trails off, her heart suddenly jumping to her throat.

“Yes Ame? Finish the sentence?” Ina giggles. The little flaps on the top of her head are wagging, betraying the calm expression on her face.

_Ah,_ comes the thought in Amelia Watson’s head, _I want to kiss her so bad right now_.

The detective looks away. Tries her hardest to hide the fierce blush blooming on her cheeks. “Never mind,” she says, under her breath, “it’s a dumb question. The answer’s pretty obvious.”

“I, for one, would like more attention from you,” says Ina. “O-only if… you’re okay with it, of course,” she adds, stammering a little.

_Eh, eh? Is she like, hitting on me? What the fuck?!_ The thoughts are wildly spinning in her head. Ame realizes that things are zooming in a direction she had somehow not, despite all the evidence, seen coming. She looks at Ina again.

Ina is smiling, sweetly, _lovingly_. She’s blushing, so furiously that it reaches the tips of her ears and creeps down along her neck. In her eyes shine a kind of adoration that Amelia Watson had secretly longed for over more than a hundred years. It’s all Ame needs to feel like the world is somehow suddenly whole again. Like the air in her lungs is overwhelmingly warm. Like the blood in her veins fills her heart with fire. Like a warm breeze blowing over an open field, healing all the wounds that time couldn’t.

Ame tugs on Ina’s hand. The cigarette between Ame’s lips falls to the gravel under their feet. Without words they’re pulled into each other.

And they kiss.

_______

It’s the next day and Amelia Watson feels her spirit burning with a confidence she never thought she had. There she is, at her cubicle, clicking and clacking away at her keyboard but not really getting any work done. She’s drafted the same report at least three times in the past hour by now. She scraps the whole thing, noticing that she’s somehow mentioned Ninomae Ina’nis four separate times in the written report.

There are currently three trains of thought battling for dominance in Amelia Watson’s detective brain:

1\. The kiss is definitely proof that they have something going. She should keep the pressure going. If she’s lucky, they’re at the stage where they’re making out by the end of the week. So she needs to flirt to materialize that goal. Flirt. Yes. She needs to flirt. How does one flirt, again?

2\. The kiss didn’t mean anything. This is all one-sided and really, why would she think that someone like Ninomae Ina’nis would even be remotely into her? Ina just kissed her as a one-off thing so Ame really shouldn’t be expecting anything _more_ because who in their right mind would expect that kind of thing based on the way their conversation had flowed the previous day. Right? _Right._

3\. This is too much for one Amelia Watson. She should just eat each individual key of her keyboard and then lie down and perish. It’s the only viable solution, really.

“ _Watson! WATSON!!_ ” Calli’s voice brings Ame back into the present. Ame is startled to find Calli standing by her cubicle, looking very annoyed.

“Oh shit didn’t see you there,” says Ame.

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes,” says Calli, sighing. She bends to look at the detective’s computer screen. “And what the fuck are you even doing? You’ve been key smashing and sometimes typing ‘Ninomae Ina’nis’ and a handful of other incoherent words.”

Ame focuses on the thing she’d been working on. “Ah shit, you’re right,” she says.

“I guess things are uh, going well for you guys?”

“Ehe,” goes Ame, a dumb smile settling on her face.

“Ew,” goes Calli, “don’t smile at me like that. _Gross_.”

“ _Ehehe_.”

“Okay.” Calli shakes her head. Slaps down a folder on Ame’s desk. “Anyway, I’ve come to personally deliver an assignment to you. Potentially dangerous shit, so you’re getting more time than usual to work on this one.”

Ame takes the file, scans through some of the documents. “Lots of entities involved here,” she says. The time and location is… a little too close to a particular case that’s a little too personally important to Ame. She tries not to think about it too much.

“Three months good for you? Just request more time if you need any. Try not to push too hard, alright? If something happens to you, Ina will probably go apeshit.”

“ _Ehehehe,_ ” goes Ame, giddy at the mention of Ina. She imagines the priestess coming to save her, lovingly cradling the detective in her arms. Strong, charming, steadfast Ina, with her soft smile and deep purple eyes…

“Watson? Hellooooo Watson? _Oh my fucking god I lost her again_ ,” goes Calli, waving a hand in front of her friend’s face.

Ame snaps out of her little day dream. “Uh, sure, yeah. Roger. Okay,” she says.

“Okay whatever,” goes Calli, turning. With a wave of a hand she adds, “Go on break or something, your brain’s not where it should be.”

Watson watches, waiting until Calli is out of view. She places the folder on her desk and decides that she ought to do something about her current _predicament_ so she can get back to focusing on work. There’s a boiling at the pit of her stomach. A kind of electricity that makes her feel incredibly restless. She decides, on the spot – _fuck it_ , and pulls out a random blank form from one of her desk drawers, a pen, and a sticky note. After a few minutes of scribbling she types up whatever jumble of words is the most passable for a report and stands up to make her way to Ina’s department, form and sticky note in hand.

She knocks on the door and enters, a bunch of other marketing department employees turning to look at her. Some human, some distinctly inhuman. All of them more focused on the thing they’re editing on their screens than they are on the random detective from the accounts department that had showed up.

She walks up to Ina’s desk. Ina looks up, confused. On her screen is the latest deck promoting some kind of product The Company is developing.

“Oh,” goes Ame, recognition clicking, “that the anti-aging cream product? I totally investigated the entity that makes that shit. I was even the one that made the recommendation on the uh, entity’s possible application for making the product.” She pauses, and then adds, “But now that I think about it, I really should have just killed the thing on the spot.”

“Really?” goes Ina, clicking through the slides to show the detective. “See, here, we say it’s made using all-natural and organic materials… I was wondering about the truth of that claim.”

“Ah, that.” Ame chuckles. “Gotta tell you, capturing that little shit was a pain in the ass and then some. Took me a while to recover from the mental scarring, if you catch my drift.”

“I’m not gonna like what the cream is made out of, huh?”

“Nope.”

Ina sits a little straighter. She nods. “Alright, I’m ready. Tell me.”

There’s an ever so slight furrow in Ina’s brow. A small look of concentration that hits Ame with waves of adoration. She fights the urge to just bend down right there and plant several little smooches on the other woman’s forehead. Ame refocuses. Clears her throat.

“It’s an uh, _secretion_ from this really fat, grub-looking creature that smells like sweaty socks,” says Ame.

Ina frowns, the small furrow in her brow deepening. She’s making it harder and harder for the detective not to melt into a puddle at the priestess’s feet.

“It’s poop… isn’t it?” asks Ina.

Ame shakes her head. “Honestly I was _so close_ to just quitting my job then, but Calli felt really bad for me and let me take a month off.”

A small look of horror crosses Ina’s features. “It’s… _Vomit_?”

“No.”

“Oh… _Oh no_ ,” goes Ina. Realization seems to dawn on her.

There’s a hollow look in Ame’s eyes. She looks down at the floor. “The thing called itself Mr. Smiley.”

“Um.”

“He called it… _Mr. Smiley’s Special Sauce._ ”

“I’m… _so sorry_ you had to go through that,” says Ina. She turns to look at the slides once more. “Pretty sure there’s no un-knowing that stuff I just found out, huh.” She steeples her hands, lost in thought. She looks like she would rather be doing anything else than work on the deck on her screen.

Watson blinks. Looks at the woman and remembers she’s very gay and things are okay in the world. Mr. Smiley’s locked away somewhere in the building, where _milking_ the monstrosity is some poor scientist’s problem and not hers. Right now she’s here on a mission and she realizes, belatedly, that she’s very much fucked up the mood.

“A-anyway,” goes Ina, turning to look at Ame again. She smiles softly. “Can I help you with anything?” She bends a little forward, past the boundaries of her cubicle. She looks at all her coworkers. Looks at where Ame is standing. Ina says, “Come closer, here,” and pulls Ame further past the cover of the cubicle divider, past where they’re visible.

Ina smiles excitedly at Ame and the detective feels all her brain cells vacate the premises. She scratches at the back of her head. “I uh,” she goes, “I wanted to ask for your help with… with filling out a form.” And she holds up the form, waving it idly. “You uh, you might be busy though. And I definitely ruined the vibe so uh, maybe… maybe later?”

“Never too busy for you,” says Ina.

With a quick, fluid motion, Ina grabs at Ame’s tie, tugs down at it. Ame barely keeps herself from yelping as Ina’s other hand finds the back of Ame’s head, guiding her closer to Ina.

And Ina plants a soft kiss on Ame’s lips. Ina’s lips taste like coffee and a million other things that Ame thinks is good and wonderful in the world. Time feels slow, which is good, Ame thinks, because she’d much rather linger in this moment for at least a few minutes more.

The priestess lets go. The detective stands up straight. The little flaps on Ina’s head are waggling alarmingly fast. A deep blush tints both their faces. Ina giggles. Amelia Watson is fairly certain she’s forgotten how to form words.

“So,” goes Ina, her voice a little shaky, “what do we have here?” She takes the form from Ame’s hand and straightens it out. Looks a little confused at the contents until she spots the sticky note at the corner. Her face softens more, the flush on her cheeks deepening further. “Oh, _Ame_ ,” she goes, turning to fish out a pen from her desk.

Ame chuckles awkwardly, playing with her tie. Her entire body feels like jello, she thinks. Nothing but soft, fluffy clouds are in her head. She’s floating, maybe. Dreaming, even. She wants nothing more than to wrap her arms around the other woman and kiss her some more until their lips grow sore.

Ina hands the form back. “I hope this helps!” she says, cheerily.

Ame looks down at the sticky note.

The detective had written, in her messy, quick scrawl:

_Help! I’m feeling a little low on “Attention from beautiful women,” which I need to survive_

_Please write your number here to keep me from dying: ______________________

Ina had written, in the blank and going past the line, her handwriting much neater:

_Nice try Watson, but you’re gonna have to work for my number. ;) I’ll tell you if you join me for dinner after work._

Ame looks at Ina. Ina winks back. Ame’s heart does that thing again where it’s just flipping over and over in its cage. Her lungs press against her ribs. Her stomach flutters. She wonders, briefly, if it’s okay to indulge in these little feelings. If it’s okay for things to turn out like this, given everything that they were.

She was a detective assigned to investigate the emergence of an eldritch entity. It was messy and even though they as individuals had an undeniable chemistry, the circumstances simply didn’t allow for it. And even then, _even then_ , they were young, reckless, wild. They weren’t ready for that kind of commitment.

But now? Ame finds herself tracing the features of Ninomae Ina’nis’s face. Young, as young and as beautiful as the day she’d first laid eyes on her. But in those dark purple eyes the detective finds someone a little wiser, a little older, a little more _prepared._ Maybe then it just wasn’t meant to be. But now, it looks like it’s the most natural course for their relationship to take.

There are fears at the back of Amelia Watson’s mind. Countless fears. Worries about repeating the events of more than a hundred years ago. Fears about things not working out between them. Fears that her feelings for Ina are too much stronger and that Ina would eventually lose interest in Ame.

Ina reaches up, gently cups Ame’s face, as if, once again, reading the woman’s mind. “I told you, you can trust me.”

When had she said that? Ame can’t remember at the moment. But the words are reassuring, striking at the heart of the shadows lurking at the back of her mind. She says, “How do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” asks Ina.

Ame leans her face into the touch. “How is it like you’re reading my mind?”

Ina hesitates. “It might be a bit arrogant for me to think this, but…” she trails off. Tries to withdraw her hand. Ame reaches up to keep it in place.

“You can tell me,” says Ame.

A pause. Ina opts to speak.

“We went through a lot together,” says Ina. “I saw you at your most courageous. Your most desperate. Your happiest. Your saddest. I saw you shine brighter than the sun itself and I also saw you dragged through the deepest despair.”

Ame blinks. The words feel heavy. Profound. Maybe like it wasn’t just Ame doing all the introspective work all these years.

Ina continues to speak. “I like to think that even after more than a hundred years, I still know you better than anyone.” She chuckles, embarrassed. “I know it’s a bold claim, but… but I do want it to be true, you know…”

The implication isn’t lost on the detective. Something powerful lurches within her. Something greater and more all-encompassing than the very intense attraction she feels toward the priestess. She turns her face, plants a kiss on the palm of Ina’s hand. “Yeah,” goes Ame, smiling goofily, humming to herself almost. Relishing in the warmth blooming in the pit of her heart. “I’d love dinner, yeah.”

_______

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao I realized that I forgot to set the fic as a multichap thing ehe sorry for the confusion!
> 
> (((tbh, not sure if this is going well but I'm having fun writing so y'all can be subject to my gay rambling)))
> 
> I'm @IronShiba on the twitter!


	3. To be worthy

The reality of Amelia H. Watson’s current situation suddenly dawns upon her. Like a bus, slamming into her at full speed. She takes stock of her surroundings.

She’s in a Korean barbecue place. With Ina. Ninomae Ina’nis. The woman who is kind of Ame’s ex if a particular set of mental gymnastics were applied to the scenario. _No,_ thinks Ame, correcting herself. _She’s the one that got away_.

The thought sends shivers down the detective’s spine. That sounds emotionally intense.

The store smells like smoke, visibility ever so slightly off despite all the overhead exhaust fans present. A grill with red-hot coals burns at their table. Meat sizzles on the metal surface, juices dripping and smells wafting about. There are several wall-mounted televisions throughout, each playing one K-Pop group or another. Over crinkly speakers plays the latest hits. They’re surrounded by other tables, each occupied by one group of rowdy individuals or another.

The thought hits Amelia H. Watson over the head again, like a baseball bat. _I’m having dinner with the girl I really wanted to be in a relationship with over one hundred years ago._ She reaches out for her mug of ice-cold, frothy beer. Goes for a hefty swig.

“So,” says Ame, trying to keep their conversation going, “you spent the last hundred or so years getting super used to your powers and growing a cult? I’m surprised that The Company let you keep the cult.” She pats herself on the back mentally. She’d read in a dating self-help book that she bought the other day that good, flowing communication is one of the cornerstones of any healthy relationship.

“Mhm,” answers Ina as she places more meat onto the grill. It sizzles as it makes contact with the metal. “It was a pain to get all the documentation needed, you know. I’ll have you know that I’m running a completely above board, totally legit operation here.”

Ame chuckles. “Okay, explain to me how an above board, totally legit cult operates.”

Ina points to the restaurant’s entryway with her chopsticks. Ame turns to look. Just above the door, quite small and inconspicuous, a small symbol carved into the wall. Ina’s symbol. The symbol of her cult.

“Moving here in itself took a _long time_ to accomplish. Needed to make sure that all my cultists could work stable jobs and assimilate well with the existing community,” says Ina. “Company guidelines state that any legal cult operating within a particular area should contribute positively to the overall well-being of the community. So no human sacrifices. No dangerous lairs. All cultist gatherings should be open to the public and scheduled in advance. Cult activities should include community events like fundraisers for environmental awareness. You know the stuff.”

Ame squints. “Wait, doesn’t that just make you guys, like, a weirdly dedicated club then? Or like, a religion dedicated to you?”

Ina laughs. “Do you _really_ want to get into the discourse of comparing a religion to a cult, Miss Watson?”

“No,” goes Ame, laughing too. She then adds, “Wait, then why even go through the trouble of it all? Can’t you just, I don’t know, work remotely or something? I can’t imagine how long this all took to put together.”

“All in all, over the course of about twenty or so years, I finally got my entire cult to relocate to this city just because The Company wants me to live closer as an Asset. Well, I also had my personal reasons but those were secondary. When death itself comes knocking at your door to hand you a job opportunity, you don’t exactly say ‘No.’” Ina takes a long swig out of her beer.

“Twenty years…” mulls the detective. Realization dawns on her. “Aw shit, so _you’re_ responsible for the economic boom here.”

“Ehe,” goes Ina, happy. “I’m honestly surprised that _you_ never noticed, detective.”

“Ah, well, when all you do is work and go home and do little in between those two things, you don’t really notice that your neighborhood is being taken over by the friendliest cult you’ve ever seen.”

“Hey, we’re still gunning for world domination, you know,” says Ina, sternly. “Calli laughed when she saw I put ‘world domination, but slowly’ on my application form, under the ‘cult goals’ section, but she _still_ approved it! So that means our slow but steady takeover is totally legitimate cult activity!”

“ _Oh no_ ,” goes Ame, jokingly, “ _how threatening! I must investigate this dangerous activity before it’s too late!_ ”

“ _You’re already too late, detective!_ ” says Ina, firing back. “ _We already have full ownership of all the donut shops in this local jurisdiction!_ ”

“Wait, no fucking way you do,” says Ame, incredulous. “Not the donut shops!”

Ina does her best impression of a fake villain laugh. “ _Myehehe_ ,” she goes, “ _give up on the case or the double-dipped strawberry chocolate donuts from the bakery down the street’s gonna get it_.”

“ _Ina, no_ ,” whines Ame. She pouts. “ _I love the double-dipped strawberry chocolate donuts_.”

Ina giggles. The flaps at the top of her head twitch. “Okay, you win this time, Watson.”

“Yay.”

“Well, enough about me though. What have you been up to Ame?”

Ame ponders the question for a bit. “Ah, you know, the usual. Went to war as support service. Mastered time travel. Became a wage slave for The Company.”

“War?”

“Yeah. Just a bit though, The Company wanted to keep itself from associating too strongly with the affairs of any one country given its purpose, but they still wanted to appear cooperative so they sent their most human-looking meatbags to the war effort.” Ame doesn’t particularly like thinking about the war. She itches for a smoke. Settles for a bit more meat and some beer to wash it down.

“That sounds… stressful,” says Ina.

“You know,” goes Ame, pivoting the topic, “I tried to come visit you after… _things_ settled down.”

Ina visibly stiffens. “Ah, yeah. That was… we uh, we moved away in a rush.”

“Can I ask why?” Ame can’t help it, there’s a weird bitterness clawing its way up the back of her throat. She does her best to stifle it. Reminds herself that it’s in the past now.

“After everything… something happened to make me realize that I had a lot of growing to do on a… personal level, you know? I realized that we were probably experiencing some… codependency… issues…” Ina trails off, a small frown settling on her face. “I’m… I’m sorry I never reached out to you.”

Ame feels horrible for making Ina even remotely sad. So she chuckles, does her best to lighten the mood. “Ah, don’t worry about it, the octopi at the local aquarium were enough to keep me company.”

A small, small smile finds its way to Ina’s lips. Ame’s insides feel like they’re melting. “I have a weirdly personally invasive question, if you don’t mind,” says Ina. She looks at the grill. At her dipping sauce. At the wall directly behind Ame. Anywhere, anywhere but Ame.

Ame stifles a chuckle. So the ball’s in her court for once, she thinks. “Alright,” she says, “but I’ll think about whether or not I’ll answer after you ask. Heh.”

“You and Gura seem awfully close…” goes Ina. She trails off. Stares into the contents of her own beer as if it were suddenly the most fascinating thing in the universe. She takes a moment before finishing her inquiry. “Are you guys, by any chance, um, you know, dating or something?”

_Okay so the ball’s not in my court_ , comes the thought,  _I repeat: the ball is not in Amelia Watson’s court. Ninomae Ina’nis has the ball and she has somehow made it explode in your face_ . 

“Uh,” goes Ame. What is she supposed to say? She runs her options through her mind.

1\. “Naw babe we’re just really good friends.”

_Potentially scummy sounding. What if Ina gets the impression that I lack the ability to commit to any long-term relationship? I mean, I’m totally open to the idea of something like that with Ina, right? Right?! Oh god, that in itself is a bucket of worms my emotionally constipated ass isn’t ready for abort ABORT._

2\. “You know, I legitimately never thought about it before holy shit.”

_Now I sound like I enjoy leading women on in my free time?! What the fuck?! I mean, the thought never actually occurred to me and now I kind of want to check in with Gura juuuuust in case I’ve accidentally been an asshole to her this entire time we’ve been best friends. Furthermore, what if Ina gets the impression that I’m secretly into Gura? ABORT. ABORT!_

3\. “Ina, just tell me what you wanna hear right now and I’ll grovel at your feet and say it a hundred times.”

_Yeah this is totally the way to go let’s just abandon all sense of dignity and let her step on you._

“Ame?” goes Ina. “Hmm, sorry, I guess that was too personal of a question, maybe?” She smiles apologetically. Sadly. Ame could see it as clear as day – the polite veneer of it all trying to hide a secret kind of hurt that Ina would never openly admit to.

“Sorry, sorry,” says Ame, “my uh, brain lost internet connectivity for a second there.”

“Your what now lost what now?” goes Ina, the response catching her completely off guard.

“Hey, did you know you apologize too much?” says Ame, suddenly. She reaches for her drink. Stares very pointedly at one of the wall-mounted televisions. Takes a long sip.

There’s a long, painful pause. Ame briefly wonders if she’d gone a bit too far.

“Um,” goes Ina.

“Don’t say it,” says Ame.

“I’m…”

“ _Ina._ Don’t you dare apologize right now.”

Ina makes a tiny whimpering sound. “ _But I’m sorry_!”

The detective shakes her head. Sighs. She decides to reach forward and steal a piece of meat from the grill. “Gura’s my best friend. I can’t really speak for her but yeah. Just friends.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Wait,” says Ame, looking very closely at Ina’s expression.

“Hm?” goes Ina.

“Do you? _Gura_?”

“What? No! I uh, Gura’s great but I’m interested in… someone… else at the moment.” Ina looks very hard at the coals in the grill. There’s a faint tint on her cheeks.

Amelia Watson feels like her ears are burning. She freezes, chopsticks midway to her mouth. The piece of meat slips off.

_Now what,_ is the though t .  _Now what?!_

There are two trains of thought battling for dominance in Amelia H. Watson’s very smart, very well-equipped detective brain.

One:  _ Inquire further, dumbass!  _ She’s a detective so not only is getting to the truth of things totally consistent with her background, but dude, this is  _ Ina _ , and if Ame is to make any progress in her quest to maybe, hopefully make out with the woman by the end of the week, then she should seriously look into any other potential rivals. And there’s always the  very lucky, very rare, and very awesome chance that Ninomae Ina’nis is somehow into Amelia H. Watson.  _ Unlikely _ , thinks the detective, because the thought of it being true makes her heart feel funny. 

Two:  _Drop the topic, dumbass!_ Is Amelia H. Watson ready to be rejected by the same super attractive woman a  _second_ time? No! She feels like she would definitely curl into a ball and wither away from existence! Well, there wasn’t really a first rejection if she was being very technical about things,  but those are semantics at the moment. Disappointment is scary! She’s totally way better off never exploring those possibilities if it can spare her the pain of knowing that Ina could end up mashing mouths with  _some other_ bozo and  _not her_ .

“Ame?” goes Ina, dragging Watson’s screaming mind back into the present. She steeples her hands, a playful, smug grin on her face. “Oho. Aren’t you going to interrogate me about the _incredibly interesting_ piece of information I’d just given away?”

The detective blinks. Her brain was most definitely overheating.

“Let’s play a game, Miss Watson,” Ina teases. The tone of voice makes Ame feel all kinds of excited. “It’s called, ‘Can Ina Guess What Ame Is Thinking?’”

Ame’s heart is about to jump out of her mouth. She looks away. Either the beer is hitting her very hard or her face is, in fact, on fire. She’s frozen in place. There’s no escape. In the game of detective and eldritch entity, Ina’s got her completely cornered. Ame briefly considers running for it. Briefly considers just bailing the timeline as a whole. Yet she sits still, in her place, because despite all the fear and adrenaline running through her veins, she does, very much, want to kiss Ina again.

“I think,” says Ina, “you’re wondering whether or not you should ask about the person I’m interested in. Am I correct?”

Ame nods, very slowly.

Ina’s grin widens more. Ame quite likes the way the light catches on  Ina’s  little fangs.  Ame swallows, hard.

“Well I can tell you all about them, if you’d like,” says Ina. “But a certain detective once told me that information is a _valuable resource_ , so I won’t be giving it to you for free.”

Ame listens on, silently, very much enraptured. Very much ready to jump at Ina’s every command.

“I heard from Kiara that you’re pretty good with technology. How about you come over sometime and help me with my PC? After that, we can… _hang out.”_ Ina winks.

“ _Okay_ ,” Ame manages to say. Her mind races at the concept of _hanging out_. Despite her somewhat valiant effort to keep her imagination above board, she is losing very hard to the idea of having Ina pinned under her, very naked, and very much having sex with her. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, detective,” goes Ina, her voice lowered to a sultry almost-growl. “Unless, you want to share with the class what you have in mind?” She bites on her lower lip. She knows what she’s doing to the poor detective. She very much knows what she’s doing.

All the blood in Amelia H. Watson’s body doesn’t know where to go. Her brain? Her crotch? Her face? _Everywhere_ , maybe. She feels dizzy. Like her body is both rearing to go and she’s about one impulse away from just tearing her shirt off on the spot. Like she wants to start screaming at the moon. Like she is most definitely experiencing cardiac arrest.

“Uh, _I’m good_ ,” she goes, dumbly.

Ina claps. “Nice. It’s settled then. Next week good for you? Oh, I’ll text you. I already got your number from Gura.”

Ame belatedly realizes that from the get go she’s already lost the battle. Whoever it is that ends up with Ninomae Ina’nis is in it for good, she realizes. A very large part of  Amelia  wishes it could be her. 

“Do I get a prize for winning our little game?” says Ina, chuckling. She looks very proud of herself.

“ _Not fair,_ ” whines Ame. “ _Ina you’re being mean.”_

The little flaps on the top of Ina’s head twitch. “Wh-what do you mean?”

Leverage. Watson realizes she finally has leverage. “ _You’re bullying me Ina, I don’t like it_ ,” she continues to whine. She pouts.

“O-oh… oh no!” goes Ina, flustered. “I’m not bullying you!”

“ _You are!_ ”

“I’m not!”

“ _Inaaaaaa!_ ”

“ _Amee!_ Oh, no, oh uh… I… how can I make it better?” The look in Ina’s eyes shift. Her expression softens. She’s looking at Ame like she’s the only thing that matters in the room. Like Ame could make any demand and Ina would do anything to please her.

The realization makes Amelia H. Watson’s heart ache terribly. A part of her wishes she could have Ina look at her like this forever.

Before Ame could say anything, could whine any more to further rile up the priestess, Ina quickly rises to her feet, quickly bends over the table, quickly captures Ame’s lips in a quick, hurried kiss. It tastes bitter, like beer, and salty, like meat, but all still wonderful. All still somehow like lightning rocking her to her core. “For you, little queen, I’d do anything,” says Ina. She pulls away upon realizing what she’d just said. 

“I… sorry, you looked like, you uh…” Ina blushes a furious shade of red. The look in her eyes remain. There’s an almost intense desperation reflected there. As if Ame’s every beck and call were the single most important thing in the universe.

Once again, realization hits Amelia H. Watson hard.

Only, it’s a realization that Ame doesn’t want to face. Doesn’t want to acknowledge. It seems too good to be true, she thinks. Too wonderful of a thing to happen to someone like her. So she opts to smile, to chuckle, to change the topic entirely. Because the fear of being happy is as potent as the fear of losing anything to our dear detective.

So she says, smirking, “How about I walk you home, Ina?”

_______

They walk side by side, in relative silence. They hold hands, taking their time on the path home. The night air feels cool on Ame’s skin. Their footsteps echo throughout the empty streets in the direction Ina is leading them.

Ame feels something cold and wet hit her face. A rain droplet. She looks up. It’s raining.

“Ah shoot,” goes Ina, “I forgot my umbrella at the office.”

Ame pulls out her yellow folding umbrella from her bag. Opens it and hands it to Ina. “Here, take mine,” says the detective. “It’s not big enough for two.”

“What about you?”

“I’m gonna run home.”

“What? But Ame,” Ina protests.

The rain gets stronger. A small drizzle grows into a downpour. The patter of rain is too loud.

“Don’t worry, I live nearby!” shouts Ame, over the sound of the rain.

“A-Ame, wait,” goes Ina, but her protests go unheard. Ame has already begun to run down the street. The water soaks her clothes. It feels incredibly cold.

“Don’t worry about me,” says Ame, turning briefly to face Ina. She grins broadly. The rain feels cool against her warm cheeks. “Idiots can’t get sick!”

_______

That was a blatant lie. She may be an idiot, but she still somehow got sick. Amelia wants a refund.

She rolls in her bed. Definitely feels a fever on her skin. A weakness in her bones. A massive headache in her… head. God, thinking was getting too hard to do.

She replays the events of the previous night again in her mind, for the millionth time. First of all, she feels immense embarrassment. It turns out, Ina lives a few floors up in their condo apartment complex. In the penthouse, to be exact, because Ina is a cultist overlord and of course she lives in a penthouse. Ame had never noticed by virtue of rarely ever being home and rarely ever giving a shit about her neighbors. 

Second of all, she realizes that given the mood they had, Amelia H. Watson could have had a girlfriend already if she had simply played her cards right. But of course the detective folded. Of course she opted to throw away all the cards that were being handed to her. Ame feels a mixture of hatred and pity towards herself. She opts to bury her face into her pillow and scream into it. 

The doorbell rings.

  
  


Ame immediately looks to the door. She isn’t expecting any deliveries. She’d already texted Gura not to worry about her and that she just needs to sleep it out. She blinks at the door.

  
  


The doorbell rings again.

  
  


This time Amelia Watson is jolted to her feet. Unsteadily shambles to the door as she realizes that her body is being very uncooperative today. She opens the door.

  
  


It’s Ninomae Ina’nis.

  
  


Amelia shuts the door.

  
  


The doorbell rings once more.

  
  


Ame opens the door.

  
  


It’s still Ninomae Ina’nis.

  
  


Ame moves to shut the door again. A tentacle shoots out, blocking it.

  
  


“Hey wait!” goes Ina. “Ame, it’s me!”

  
  


Ame swings the door open. The tentacle retreats back into Ina’s shadow. “Sorry,” says Ame, blinking at the bright light outside. “I thought I was hallucinating for a moment there.”

  
  


“Are you okay?” asks Ina.

  
  


Watson does a quick assessment of her overall well-being. She feels like just keeling over and dying. “No,” she says, plainly.

  
  


“Oh, uh. Have you eaten yet? I can make you food.”

  
  


Watson’s brain is operating at half capacity, she realizes. She simply lacks the energy to be pessimistic and dodge opportunities because of her baseless fears. She does, however, look behind her, at the mess of a house she lives in. Countless beer cans and bottles. Full ashtrays she’d never bothered to empty. Take out containers consuming table space. “Uh, my house is all messy though.”

  
  


“I can help with that too,” goes Ina. Tentacles appear from the shadows, wriggling, writhing. “If it’s good with you, you can just rest a bit and I’ll have something warm ready for you… _Ina minute._ ”

  
  


Ame moves to try to slam the door in Ina’s face.

  
  


A few tentacles fly out to stop the door. “I’m sorry!” shouts Ina. “No more puns! Only warm food!”

  
  


Ame opens the door again. “No puns,” she says, huffing.

“No puns,” says Ina, holding up a hand full of groceries.

The detective sits bundled up in her sheets on her living room couch as countless tentacles writhe about, emptying ash trays, tossing empty beer cans and bottles and take out containers into trash bags. If Ame wasn’t feeling sick she’d have the energy to be mortified at the whole affair. But at the moment she’s more than content to enjoy being pampered. She watches as Ina hums while cooking. Ina, in her more comfortable casual wear, wearing an apron and her hair tied into a ponytail. Ame feels like she’s healing.

“Don’t you have work today?” the detective asks.

The priestess checks on a pot of boiling soup. The smell of broth fills Ame’s lungs. “I took an emergency leave,” says Ina.

“I hardly constitute this an emergency.”

“Well, I do, Ame, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Ina chuckles to herself. Ame tries to burrow further into her sheets. Tries not to imagine what it would be like to have Ina care for her like this _all_ the time.

It’s a few minutes more until Ina approaches with a bowl of steaming udon. Ina sits beside Ame on the couch. Takes a spoon and scoops some broth. “ _Aaaaah_ ,” she goes, bringing the spoon to Ame’s lips.

Ame sips at the soup. It warms her insides. The broth is rich, flavorful, but not too greasy. It tastes clear, each individual flavor working together in unison.

“Woah,” goes Ame, gingerly taking the bowl and a pair of chopsticks from Ina. “This is like, the best fucking udon I’ve ever had dude.”

Ina smiles brightly. “I’m glad.”

Ame starts to scarf down the food, realizing how hungry she’d actually been. Ina stifles a giggle. After a while of watching Ame eat happily, she speaks. “Did you know I’m actually kind of immune to getting sick from the rain? Because of the whole… you know, deep sea lore.”

Amelia nearly chokes on her noodles. “Why didn’t you say so?!”

“You didn’t give me a chance to!” goes Ina, raising her hands up in defense. “You were having a moment and I really didn’t wanna ruin it for you.”

“Great,” answers Ame. “So I really am both sick _and_ an idiot.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I liked the outfit I wore that day so I’m pretty glad the rain didn’t ruin it.”

“Gee, glad to know I was of service to your fancy office wear.”

“Hey, those were limited edition _and_ I had them tailor fit to me.”

_______

Amelia had made short work of the noodles. Ina had put away the leftovers for her to eat later, but not after scolding the detective for only having beer and some assortment of expired condiments in her fridge.

It’s a bit of work, but Ina manages to get Ame to drink some medicine, to stagger back into her bed, where the priestess tucks in the detective.

Ame looks up at Ina, as she carefully tucks the sheets around the detective. “Why are you so nice to me?” she asks.

Ina chuckles. “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for time-traveling detectives that are kind and clever and compassionate,” she says.

“Woah, you know a lot of them?”

“Just you.”

“I’m not like that though.”

Ina gently pushes Ame’s bangs aside. “Have you ever considered that maybe you’re worthy?”

Ame blinks at Ina, languidly. “Worthy?” she asks.

“Worthy of care. Worthy of time. Worthy of love. That you, as a person, have _worth_ and that worth is in itself, _enough_.”

There it is again. The lurch in the pit of her stomach. The ache in her chest. The feeling that somehow her insides had grown a hundred times too large for her small body to contain. Her eyes begin to sting. To blur. When was the last time that anyone had said, to her face, that her existence in itself is of value? She reaches up, tries to reach out to Ina. But her  vision is blurred with tears she’s trying to blink away. 

Ina catches Ame’s hand. Presses it softly against  Ina’s cheek. “Can I tell you a story?” she asks. 

“ _Okay_ ,” says Ame, her voice cracking.

“There was once a young girl, who lived in a village. It was a simple village. One that was close to the sea. They survived on the gifts that the ocean gave them.” Ina’s voice is clear, even. “The girl was young, yes, but she was also an adult, one who was beginning to shake away the follies of youth. She was reaching the years of her life when she began to understand that life did not revolve around her. Revolve around her village.”

Ame closes her eyes. Relishes in the warmth of Ina’s skin. The  smoothness  of her voice.

Ina continues her story. “There were many problems that assailed the village. Talks of their younger generations going and leaving to find work in the cities, in these new factories that blew plumes of dark, black smoke into the skies. Concerns about a shortage of fish. Worries about not making it through the next winter. All kinds of things, you know.”

“Gosh Ina,” says Ame, chuckling softly, “didn’t know you had it out for us city folk.”

Ina giggles. Clears her throat. “Them city folk are stealing our fish and polluting our waters!” she says, trying to sound like an old person. It’s a pretty good impression.

Ame laughs. “Sorry I interrupted,” she says. “Please continue.”

Ina bends down to plant a kiss on Ame’s forehead. “Anyway,” she says, still holding onto Ame’s hand, “ There was a young girl, yes? She sees this, and everything, and wonders what future is left for the village.”

The priestess takes a deep breath. Ame squeezes her hand.

“The girl, she finds a book,” says Ina. “A book, sealed away in the deepest parts of a nearby mountain she had no business being in. The book had called to her, you see. In dreams. In waking time. ‘Come, come,’ it seemed to say. The girl’s curiosity had gotten the best of her. Opening the book had changed everything.” Ina steadies herself, but her voice trembles. It’s slight, barely perceptible. But Amelia would know. Amelia could tell.

“So when does the detective come into the story?” Ame asks, trying to help Ina in her own way.

“Be patient,” says Ina, teasingly. Her voice steadies. Ame feels pleased with herself.

Ame scoots over in her bed, trying to make space. She pats the space next to her. “Lay down with me?” she says.

Ina obliges, sliding under the covers next to the detective. They lie on their sides, facing each other. Their hands find each other. Holding one another under the sheets tightly. As if letting go would mean that either one would drift away.

“The girl became a priestess, not by choice but by destiny,” says Ina, finally, quietly. “She was chosen by the book. By the Ancient Ones. She was…” Ina trails off.

“… Worthy.” Ame finishes.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry the detective couldn’t fix it for you.”

“Ah,” goes Ina. “You’re skipping ahead in the story. _Be patient,_ I said.” After a pause, her eyes widen ever so slightly. She gasps.

“Ina,” warns Ame, “I know what you’re about to say and you really shouldn’t.”

Ina forges on, undeterred. “Be patient… my… _patient._ _Hehe._ ” She pauses, as if waiting for applause. “Get it?” she asks, when Ame just stares at her. “You know, _patient_.”

“I get it,” says Ame, resigned. She rolls over, faces away from Ina. “Actually, I think I’m going to sleep now. Thanks Ina bye.”

“Wait waiiiiit Ame _waiiiiit_ ,” whines Ina, “I’m not finished with my storrrryyyyy.”

Ame rolls over again to return to her previous position. “Okay but you’re on thin ice here, priestess.”

“Understood, detective,” says Ina, sliding a little closer to Ame. She lets go of Ame’s hand and for a second she feels disappointed at the loss of contact, but she feels Ina slide her arm around the detective’s waist, pulling her closer. “Is this okay?” asks Ina.

Amelia Watson isn’t sure if it’s the fever or Ina’s general proximity anymore. All she knows is that she feels like she’s probably on fire. Metaphorically  _ and  _ literally. She realizes, alarmingly, that she doesn’t know where to put her arms.  She opts to lie awkwardly in Ina’s  embrace ,  k eeping her arms close to herself. She nods at Ina, who patiently await s a response.

Ina giggles. Moves to take one of Ame’s arms and drape it over the taller woman’s waist. She replaces where her arm had been. Ina smells sweet. A little like fresh laundry. Her presence is warm, pleasantly so. From Ame’s position, she can see the pulse point of the priestess’s neck. She sees, there, the rapid _thump thump thump_ of Ina’s heart. It makes Ame feel a little more relaxed. A little more okay with the fact that her own heart was going so fast she feels like she’s running a marathon.

“Continue with your story?” says Ame, somehow bolder by the realization that maybe Ina is just as nervous, just as excited as she is. She moves her head closer. Nestles in the space under Ina’s chin. There, more clearly, she hears Ina’s rapid heartbeat. It’s calming, Ame thinks.

Ina hums. Her arms tighten around Amelia. “Where were we?” she goes. Ame feels the rumble of Ina’s voice. In her throat. In her chest. Very much alive. Very much there, with her.

“Ah yes,” says Ina. “The girl is now the priestess, vessel to an unknowable, all-powerful entity beyond all human understanding. But, see, vessels are meant to be as strong as the thing they’re to contain, and the girl, she was a tiny thing. A fragile thing. A vessel of glass forced to contain the entirety of the ocean itself. The vessel is cracked, warped, distorted under the influence of these powers.”

Ina pauses. Ame feels the deep breath the other woman takes. She continues to speak, continues to retell her story. “But she was _chosen,_ she was _worthy._ So she brings her power to the village. The village stops being a village by the seaside. It becomes a cult. _Her_ cult. The villagers fall at the priestess’s feet and worship her as if she were a god. But along with their reverence came their fears. Endless fears.”

“And though the priestess may be powerful, she still was a young girl at heart,” Ame supplies, without thinking.

“Yes,” says Ina. Her arms tighten around Ame more. As if trying to close any gap between the two. As if desperately holding onto Ame to keep herself afloat.

Ame tightens her embrace too, as if saying _I’m here, Ina, I’m here_.

“This is where the detective comes in,” goes Ina. Her voice lightens a little. There’s fondness in the recollection. “She was new to her job. It seemed, at least to the priestess, that she had no idea what she was doing most of the time. She’d done a very poor job at attempting to infiltrate the village.”

“Hey Ina, cut me some slack here, aren’t you trying to make me feel better? Cuz it feels a lot like you’re _dunking on me_ right now,” goes Ame, rubbing her head into the space under Ina’s chin.

Ina laughs, “Let me finish!” she goes.

Ame stops her assault. “Okay, okay, go on,” she says, chuckling.

“The detective wasn’t just any detective though. She was,” and Ina gasps, playfully, “a _time-traveling_ detective.”

“Sounds OP. Should nerf.”

“Stop interrupting,” says Ina, laughing. The sound feels so pleasant against Ame’s ears. “But yes, a time traveler. Only, the detective’s powers were new to her. Something she’d only very recently inherited through her bloodline. In theory, she had told me, she should be able to travel to _any point_ in space and time, but the detective that the priestess had met was only able to jump no more than an hour to the past or the future, and she was still unable to change her position in space.”

Ina gently strokes Ame’s back. Soothing the blonde. “The detective stumbled with her power a lot. And she was clearly doing her best to learn to tame them to make them hers. The priestess understood this feeling. She, too, struggled with a vast sea of newly acquired abilities. They were two lost souls, lost in the midst of power and responsibility that neither asked for. Neither desired. But it was given. Given because they were somehow _worthy_.”

“This story is sad, Ina,” says Amelia, quietly.

“It kind of is, isn’t it?”

“Do you ever wish that you didn’t have those powers? Are you ever sad that the detective didn’t fix it for you?” Ame pauses, and then says, “This detective now, she can go back to make it as if it had never happened.”

“I would like to ask you that first,” says Ina. “If you could somehow go back through time to prevent yourself from becoming a time traveler without tearing the fabric of time and space, would you do it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” goes Ame, “… that would invalidate all the effort I made to get to this point.”

“I feel the same, you know. Maybe, to live a life without struggle is not to live at all,” says Ina. “Besides, you’re missing the point, Miss Amelia H. Watson.”

Ame stays silent. Waits for Ina to continue.

“It was so hard, but the priestess had the detective and the detective had the priestess,” says Ina. Her voice lowers, barely a whisper. A secret for only them. “In the nights when the priestess could not silence the whispers in her head, the detective would come to embrace her. Them, together in bed, exchanging stories until the sun rises once again.”

“Like now, I guess,” supplies Ame.

“Like now,” echoes Ina. “And in the days that the detective could not keep up with the constant shifting of time, it would be the priestess’s turn to come embrace her. Them, still together in bed, grounding the detective. Reminding her where she is. When she is. _Who_ she is.”

“Not like now. Now is because the detective failed at being cool,” says Ame.

Ina laughs. “Mhm,” she goes, “the priestess really appreciates the thought though.”

“It’s funny,” says Ame, “you know, to begin with I had the case because I was supposed to monitor you for a week, tops. I was recruited by the company just a month prior. We ended up spending nearly a year together. Almost got fired, heh.”

“All things considered, are you sure you’re glad you got to keep your job?” asks Ina, chuckling.

“Well, we got to meet again, didn’t we?”

“Ah. I’m flattered. Very smooth save, detective.”

“Wait, where were you going with this?” goes Ame.

“Geez,” goes Ina, “this is because you keep interrupting.”

“Sorry,” says Ame, chuckling.

“Well, maybe the priestess and the detective didn’t feel like they were really worthy. But in those nights, and in those times, when they had each other and no one else but each other… they were worthy in each other’s eyes.” Ina pauses. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. “And even when things all went wrong,” she says, sadly, “and even when they had to part, nothing will ever change the fact that they were worthy, at least to each other.”

“The ending of that story is too sad, Ina,” says Amelia.

“You think so?” asks Ina.

“Yeah.”

There’s the rustling of sheets. Ina presses herself closer, closer to the detective. Her arms wrapped so tight around the other woman. From her position, Ame can’t see the priestess’s face, but she doesn’t need to see, because she can hear, in the trembling whimper of her voice, in the shudder of her chest. Ina is crying.

“Then what would you call what we have now, what we _are_ now? Isn’t this part of that story?” she says.

Ame can’t hold back her own tears. She returns the fierceness of Ina’s embrace, as much as her weakened body would allow her.

“I think this is a new story altogether. We can’t rewrite the past, Ina. Well, to be more accurate, we _refuse_ to. But everything we do now will determine the shape our future will take.” Her heart feels like it could burst, but she pushes herself to continue. “Is it selfish of me to want this to be a story where we can have a happy ending?”

Ina’s reply is quick. “It’s not selfish when it’s something both parties want.”

Ame moves to look up at Ina. There it is again, that look of devotion in Ina’s eyes. Quiet, pleading, and almost desperate. “Ina?” asks Ame. There are words to the question she wants to ask but she’s afraid. Too afraid to pull them out. Too afraid to lay them bare.

“Ame,” says Ina. Her voice sounds like a silent prayer. “We never crossed this bridge back then. But I want to. I so badly want to. So can we? Would you be okay with being in a relationship with me?”

“Of course. There’s no one more worthy than you.”

_______

Amelia Watson dreams of the end of the world.

To be precise, she dreams of her past.

122 years ago.

She was on her knees, in front of the remains of the stone temple. A tomb of rubble. Artful architecture rendered to little more than gravel beneath her. The Ancient Ones were finally brought to heel. The priestess had risen to her full potential.

And of the detective? Everything inside her ached. She was beaten, bruised, and she was fairly certain she was on the verge of death. But she had pushed past the limit of her power, too. The pocket watch in her hand hummed with newfound potential.

Amelia Watson could hardly hear anything. Partly because this is a dream, and in dreams the finer details of scenes are lost to the passage of time. But there was a hum in her ears, the dull _thump, thump, thump_ of her barely beating heart. Like the ocean, almost. It sounded kind of like she was slowly drowning. The detective focused on the scene before her, at the epicenter of the final conflict.

Among it all was Ina, kneeling among broken statues and toppled pillars. With both hands she reached up, to the rays of the sun that had bathed her in radiant light. She reached out, longingly, longingly, relishing the light cast upon her. It was as if it were her first time feeling the warmth of day upon her pale skin.

What was it that Amelia H. Watson wanted to say? What was it that the detective wanted to do? She wanted the memory, the moment, the very scene of the priestess before her etched into her memory. She wanted bone and flesh and blood to remember everything that had happened.

She must have blacked out, briefly. She had only blinked. Had only closed her eyes for just a little bit. But the next thing she knew she was cradled in Ninomae Ina’nis’s lap. The priestess was humming a song. Was playing with Amelia’s hair.

Amelia opened her mouth to speak, but this is a dream, and in her dream nothing but static dribbled out past her lips.

Ina noticed that Ame was awake. She smiled, sadly. There were so many unspoken words behind the smile. She bent over. Pressed a soft, warm kiss upon the detective’s forehead. There was a burning on the mark on her neck. An ache, a throb, and then all at once it vanished.

Ame reached up to the mark on her neck, up to where the pact symbol between her and the priestess was.

“You are free now, little queen,” is all Ina whispered.

There were words. Countless words. A vast infinite number of them that brewed within  Amelia  H. Watson . But they stayed stuck in the back of her throat, burning like bile, the air in her lungs so full of these words she felt like they would suffocate her. 

Her eyes felt like lead. She fought the urge to close them. Even to blink. But her body was broken, and it no longer obeyed her wishes. Her eyes fluttered shut. Briefly. So briefly.

The next thing she knew, her friends began to drag her broken body away. But she never got to say the things she wanted to say. Never got to take those final few steps.

All she had, the memory etched into the very crevices of her consciousness.

Ina, who had crumpled over. Ina, who had cried. Ina, who had shouted, and sobbed, and thrashed. Ina, who watched Amelia H. Watson be dragged away from her, away from everything they were. Everything they could have been.

Amelia reached out, desperately, the last burst of strength within her pushing her to surge forward. Her friends had held her down, but she fought against them. Refused to listen to their words. She reached out, with a desperation she herself never knew she possessed.

“ _Ina!_ ” she had shouted. Her voice was hoarse. It was terribly painful to speak, as if she had swallowed shards of glass and they were lodged in her throat. But she pushed on. “ _Ina! Wait for me! I’ll come back! One day, one day I swear we’ll be better! I’ll come back! I swear!”_

_______

Amelia H. Watson wakes up with a jolt and a gasp. Her lungs expand normally, her rib cage intact, her body not broken. She looks around, quickly.

She’s in the office. Pulling overtime, again. It’s a few days after she’d recovered from her sickness. All that awaited her upon her return to the office were endless stacks of paperwork. It was everything the detective could do to prevent Ina from stealing any more of her work.

There’s nothing but the hum of florescent lights. The distant rumble and rattle of an old air conditioning unit. Ame looks down at her desk.

There, to the side, a cup of Ame’s favorite convenience store coffee and a hefty-looking bag of what she assumes to be her favorite tiny donuts.

On the coffee cup, a sticky note, written in Ina’s familiar, neat scrawl: _Take it easy, detective!_

On the edge of the note is a small doodle of Amelia. The detective sighs, the softness of the gesture not lost upon her. Ina is always too kind to her, really.

_Worthy_ . The word echoes in her head like a song she can’t forget. She feels like her chest is on fire.  _Yes, yes_ , comes the thought.  _I am worthy. Ina had said I am worthy. And she, too, is worthy. I told her. I finally told her._

Amelia carefully peels the note off of the mug. Cradles it very gently in her hands. She pulls out her wallet, slides it in the slot where a picture would normally go. She feels like she could melt into a puddle on her desk. She admires the note. Studies each stroke of the pen and memorizes each letter on the paper. She lets out a long, long sigh, crumpling over her desk as her heart begins to ache.

She admits it to herself, finally, _finally_. She loosens her hold on her thoughts, her fears, her _feelings_. And after everything, decides to allow herself this one thing.

_She has it so, so bad for Ninomae Ina’nis_ .

_______

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psssst reader. yeah, you, hey you.
> 
> You are worthy. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this update! It was... big fun to write ehe. I've been feeling a little bit sad these past few days, so pardon if my own insecurities are uh,,, leaking,,, from my body,.,,,,,
> 
> I'm @IronShiba on twitter!

**Author's Note:**

> lmao I know I said I'd post the whole thing when it's done but uhhhhh... it's getting p long so I thought I'd just post in chapters. ehe.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm @IronShiba on the tweeter


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